Rylan Ollivier

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

The monster was chasing me, deep within the forest
With the sound of Haitian drum corps pounding all around us.
The snarnling teeth were dipped in plaque, stained with hues of yellow
With several miles i'd run so far, my legs felt like jello
I climbed up a tree to escape the ferocious beast
And not become its dinner
Branch by branch i climbed my way as if a world class sprinter
My legs were sore, my arms were burning
And my lungs were ready to burst.
I realized that if I quit this fight, my death would be the worst.
His claws grabbed my back and pulled me ...