They are coming
Thump thump thump
The trickling drips of terror
No aid in sight
No relief so bright
Surrounding
Fleeing
Knock knock knock on the neighbours’ doors
The lights are on but they reply “no one’s home”
Long loud fingers
Grasp my neck
Translucent but present
Past but incessant
People propellant
Screaming
Spiritual Hypoxia
Shadows throttling my trachea
Slash their fingers to release me…
But they weren’t really there…
From my neck blood gushes
Loved one's blushes
Screeching blue sirens never come
Alone with people laughing next to me
I lay there
Bleeding
Dying
At least I will now be
Free
About the Creator
Honor Willow Brown
I am a 25 year old student currently in my fourth year of BA English and Film. I'm interested in sharing creative writing, non-fiction articles and poems.
Keep reading
More stories from Honor Willow Brown and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.