A Poem For Friday

When Will It End?

Branches stab at me,

Fingers uncoiling, reaching out,

I push past them, panting,

When will it end?


Voices fill the air,

Guttural, gathering momentum,

Someone sees me, I shiver,

When will it end?


Lights fill the forest,

Footsteps thunder, coming closer,

Shouts shoot through me, I scream,

When will it end?


Chanting commences,

Wild eyes are everywhere,

“We have the wicked witch!”

When will it end?


Many hands claim me,

Pushing, forcing me forwards to my fate,

Sobs catch in my throat, I am no witch,

But at least it will end.

***

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10 Responses to A Poem For Friday

  1. sarianladyaolcom says:

    Full of drama. I liked the poem a lot

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