Just Get Home

Every writer is lying if not some part of them doesn't love a good psycho thriller...I have written a few short stories and they have been some of my favorite works of mine, this poem is subtly a thriller, the theme is sublte and is often missed....if anyone reads this I wonder if they actually understand what I was trying to do with this poem...Let me know!

Dark and cold, breeze blowing across my face
Keep going, keep walking, Just Ge Home

Fog rolling past my feet, Dark so thick you could barely see.
Keep going, keep walking, Just Get Home

The walk becoming a beckoning threat with every step
Every night, the same woods, the same final destination...

This night, it was different,the trees seem to reach down toward me
reaching to grab me, bringing me to my final hour

Everything silent, more then usual, NO, it is fine.
Keep going, keep walking,..just get home...

All of a sudden, nothing, I feel nothing.
Shock, now Horror
A hand clenched my mouth, knife held strikingly to my throat
Do I dare struggle? Or do I stay dead still.

Then nothing,
 a sudden cry of abandon,
hand released, knife thrown down.

A cry for help, begging the night for forgiveness it can not give.
The man left with nothing, crying on the damp brush covered floor of my woods.

Keep going, keep walking, Just Get Home
Look back, just breathe, run, now run faster!, run to the home you know well,
The final destination.

                 I'm here
                       Alive

A quick escape from a dark night.....and nothing more.