Poezja

The woods are scary.
The wood is where it happened.
So quiet and dark.
 
Why did I go in?
I was warned about these woods.
Some don’t make it out.
 
I approached the path.
Trees screaming for me to leave.
I went any way.
 
I walked quietly.
They didn’t hear my loud screams.
No way to turn back.
 
I opened my eyes.
Those never found were with me.
Never to be free