Captured


Slinking down the midnight street
The moon is high and the air tastes sweet
A deafening silence calls my name
Enticing me to play its game
 
One foot in front of the other,
Soon I’m greeted by another
An apparition – perhaps a shadow
Standing alone, its head hung low
 
An ominous smirk from ear to ear
Makes my blood turn cold with fear
Boney fingers with a relentless grasp
Trap me in the devil’s clasp.