The Hunt Poem by Arik Fletcher

See shadows drift through open doors,
feel heavy boots on wooden floors,

Let panic take on full control,
as fear consumes both heart and soul,

Hear metal scrape on plastered walls,
as foot steps echo through the halls,

Deep in the dark the nightmares wait,
with thoughts of death, that sense of fate,

The act is quick and without pain,
the spine soon severed from the brain,

Now take the knife, assume the form,
the killer lives, their soul reborn.