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Black Dog

Rating: 4.5
A dark paranoia dogs my steps,
goes for the throat, leaps on my chest,
brings down it's prey and rips my flesh,
baying at the moon.

I am a tortured soul in hell,
flayed alive, not doing well.
A black dog obeying some primal spell,
baying at the moon.
Moods that shift from meek and mild,
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COMMENTS
Deborah Cromer 27 June 2009
This is good and I liked it. You have a very nice way of giving the reader good description. Very strong and keeping me reading. Deborah Cromer
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Joshua Fegley 22 October 2006
Oi! I like this one, it's almost morbid. Laters...mate. I'm reading on. ...Joshua
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Mary Nagy 09 September 2005
I think this is a great poem David. I love the repetition you chose to use. Gave it an eery type of mood (for me) I enjoyed this very much. Sincerely, Mary
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