THE HUNT


People
Running to and fro
Hustling and bustling
They know not my pain

People
Smiling and happy
Grinning from ear to ear
They see not my bleeding soul

Me
Boiling and hot
Gnashing my teeth in frustration
I rip them apart

People
A stranger walks among you.
You are too blind to see.

Me
Scenting the air
I hunt.

Return to the Sanctum

POETRY INDEX

Talk to Me