Poem seven – http://napowrimo.com
A horrible, tight, looming feeling.
The knowledge of my own mortality,
lurking in shadows behind me like a predator waiting to strike.
A heavy pressing on my heart, clinging on like talons sunk deep into ripe flesh.
My ribcage tightens, constricting my very soul.
My eyes bulge and strain in the darkness to glimpse a horizon,
just to spy a beam of sunlight cutting through.
The pungent smell of my own death and decay
repulses my own nostrils and makes me wretch.
By Becky Bite