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The Path

I was mowing my lawn and thought of this.

By Madolyn SanchezPublished 7 years ago 1 min read

The deadened grass crackled underneath my bare feet

Stepping on stones piercing the soles of my feet

For once I strayed from the well worn path

My blood being spilled for the pleasure of curiosity

Continuing making my own path comes the sound of the predator; unknown.

I run causing the stalks and seeds to cling to me

My hair, my clothes, and some plant themselves in my heart

Causing my skin to itch and cuts to erupt

As the gait of the unknown starts to quicken like the sound of blood in my ears

As I glance back to see if the beast is behind me, I lose my balance and my face comes into contact with ground

Tears cling on my eyelids as I scamper to right myself

Fear slithers it’s way up my back and pierces my spine with its talons

Tears fall now my lips quivering

As darkened eyes make contact with mine

Only one thought comes to mind,

Of all days to stray from the path; why today?

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Madolyn Sanchez

I love stringing random words together and making them sound like they should be together. I used to write a lot and I’m trying to get back into the rhythm of it.

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