Cynophobia

 

Weary legs and panting breath,

so cold and out of my depth.

I'm running on empty.

This forest and me,

trees all that I can see.

Under full moons leering gaze,

trapped like a rat in a maze.

 

Through the brambles and the thorns,

flesh ripped and torn.

Pain roars through my skin in dissent,

blood drips, a marker,

my scent.

A breadcrumb trail

but I must prevail,

I need to escape this thing

that is on my tail.

 

Over branches I trip,

through wet ground I slip,

never stopping, not for one second.

I can't look back to see what threatens.

Wooden limbs outstretched,

catching my face,

slowing my pace.

Twigs snap, crack under footfall,

I hear that growled call.

 

Running as fast as legs will take,

but my head is stuck fast back in that place,

in the dark wooded land,

I caught sight of what looked like a man,

but he had fur covering his face

and a strange gait

like he wanted to walk on all fours.

He struck me with sharp claws

and now through my veins

his cursed howls course.

 

 

 

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Kyle