The Hunt


Heat pounding,
Pulse sounding.
Run, run if you dare,
They think you a monster,
A beast without care.

They want your heart,
They want your brain.
To them you are a beast,
Fit only for their feast.

To run is pain,
It prolongs the fear.
The end is near.

Sharp sting,
Senses dull.
Rain pours,
Blood mingles.

The end is here.