Ruth warren

Rookie (5/4/1973 / LONDON)

The Forest - Poem by Ruth warren

Into the beautiful forest, I run as fast
as a deer;
they're growing closer by the minute,
my heart is filled with fear.

I see wildlife all around me, and
deeper into the forest I run;
for once they lay their hands on me,
the chase will then be done.

And so knowing what will happen, if
they catch me in the night;
only makes me run that much faster,
until they are out of my sight.

I stop for a brief moment, but only to
rest for awhile;
I can sense their presence is near,
so I must be quick and agile.

Just as I am ready, to start running
from them again;
I feel their cold hands upon me,
and I know the torture will begin.

They drag me through the woods, to the
place that I call home;
into a room, where secrets are kept,
and hands that freely roam.

This dream of mine, I have each night,
most of it is true;
I never try to run, yet I always comply,
with what they want me to do.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 26, 2006



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