Jun 2016
A rhythmic pounding,
one-two-three-four
Of my footfalls on the cracked stone.
I feel them close behind me,
Their breath burning the back of my neck.
A crazed grin splits my lips.
*This is what I live for.
one-two-three-four
Of my footfalls on the cracked stone.
I feel them close behind me,
Their breath burning the back of my neck.
A crazed grin splits my lips.
*This is what I live for.
