The Hunted

They are the eeriness that cloud your vision,

Watching with morbid pleasure

As you stretch your arms upward from your pit.

Your personally assigned dungeon of despair,

Gifted to you by these hunters.

Reach, poor baby, for the sky so far.

Reach from the hole that has swallowed you up.

Your own private prison of hollowness.

Can you hear their laughter,

You sad, tortured thing,

Mocking your feeble attempts at freedom?

Can you see the shadowed gapes,

Cratered into their skulls,

That glow with each cackle they spew?

Lift your head,

And wipe your tears,

And part your lips to sing.

They feed from knowing,

You feel you're defeated

So sing, sweet baby -
Sing.

Sing with your heart,

To the souls of them all.

You have what they all have lost.

Reviews

[hmarieee]

This is amaziing. You have a way with words and there are so many great lines in here. It's beautiful.

[deeps]

This is powerful, I could almost imagine this one as song lyrics.
This is very nicely written.