Wednesday 27 January 2010

HOUNDS.

Hunted by hounds, so I take to the motorway,
Don't want to be caught, but the hole is burning fierce,
Flames lick my mind, burning my eyes,
Blinded, smashing into a hall of mirrors.

The reality of the ghost train shatters my conviction,
As simple as the flick of a switch,
Plunged into the dark of night, shadows torture,
Hands through my hair, Mother's, but the mirrors are empty,

Running cowardly through the black, get back to the city,
Places to hide, but my compass points to the past,
A swinging lantern comes into view, dazzling me,
Shielding my eyes, refuge comes within her arms.

The puddle blocks our path, deep and dank,
So headfirst we dive, hands held, into a world brand new,
Hounds dead and buried, the motorway long demolished,
Lied about homework, but you're a different kind of teacher.

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