If this is not an ambush,

why am I so afeared;

who is it that behind me

murmurs threats so sweet, so dear.

I glory not in gore or pain,

there is nothing I adore.

But if this is to end in terror true,

let me have it more.

© 2018 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s