The Hunter Within

Something dark trails my spine.

It stays close, a grim shape that refuses to show itself.

I feel it moving when I move,

stopping when I stop.

The dread is heavy,

pulling at my clothes like a swamp.

Every part of me wants to run,

yet my legs turn to lead.

*

The woods seem deeper,

twisted into shapes that mock my fear.

A cold prickle travels up my back,

telling me I am watched by a thing that hates the light.

I know it waits for a slip,

a stumble,

a moment of weakness.

It feeds on my panic,

enjoying the way I shudder.

*

I keep my eyes front.

If I look,

I will see a horror that defies all sense.

My heart thumps loud in the gloom.

I am trapped in a nightmare

where my own terror acts as the hunter.

No sound comes from the dark.

It is a hungry void,

a presence so thick it burns.

*

I scramble over broken ground,

gasping for life.

The feeling grows worse.

It knows my path.

It knows my failures.

I move forward,

yet this thing stays stuck to my heels,

a curse that will never leave.

*

I am dying a thousand times over,

trapped in the grip of a shadow of my own ruin,

waiting for the final pull

that will drag me into the deep.

*

Every breath feels like a struggle

against a wall of invisible iron.

My mind breaks under the burden of this stare.

I am alone,

hunted by a ghost of my own making,

forever running from the thing

that stalks my misery.