I Write
Flying through the night with nothing but my own personal demons to accompany me, and I know there's something wrong. I can feel eyes burning into my back, but there's nothing there. I can hear the footfalls behind me, and the trees looming over me are, for once, not so inviting.
I run faster, fearing what may happen if I stop. I swerve my path, so I may be a harder target. But, in the end all that's there are my own demons. For I alone can drag me down.
This is just a little piece that I couldn't keep in my head any longer. So, I put it here.
I run faster, fearing what may happen if I stop. I swerve my path, so I may be a harder target. But, in the end all that's there are my own demons. For I alone can drag me down.
This is just a little piece that I couldn't keep in my head any longer. So, I put it here.
26-30, F