Terror, red hot, swaps my being.
Irrational and out of the blue.
With no reason at all, it seems even more dangerous.
Like a haunting breeze creeping up my back,
putting the hairs on end.
Feeling the need to look over my shoulders,
I find nothing but the everyday scene.
Why do I feel so?
there is certainly no need to fear,
or is there?
Like ghosts of the dead,
the shadows grow in strength.
But it is midday.
My head whips around,
like a deer hearing the crackle of leaves,
as the hunter moves in for the kill.
I can feel their eyes....
I am the Prey but who is the Predator?
Is there something wrong with me?
Amélie Peace
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prey-or-predator/
