Bad days
run in packs
Lopping easy strides
through the light foliage
of your life
Dogging heels
following scent trails
Spreading out in loose formation
arcing around
to surround
And when
you are exhausted
crazed with fear and pain
and gasping
on trembling legs
They take you down
with barely a sound
1 comment:
I love the metaphor here of bad days being a pack of wolves or dogs. I only wish I had thought of this one myself. Well written poem.
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