Well, another poem.
The park
He is running
He is holding a box
his pursuers can't get the box
they mustn't
they can't
he is running to someone
to someone or something who can help keep them away from the box
He is running
He hears voices
The are hideaous voices
hissing
buzzing
all the time showing that he is in some ethereal world,
some strange dimension
he hears his pursuers scream
a hideaous horrible deathly scream
one that chills the frightened runner to the bone
he runs away from them
those hideous protoplasmic things
he runs to the THING in the forest near the park
the park used for unseemly rituals
the park used to worship[ ones from beyond
evils that no one should hear of
no one can know these things,
of the things in the park and live
he is running
running to his ruler
the one bent on him never being caught
the one , the only
a repressed evil
the park hides a horrible secret
are you willing to discover it???
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