What Makes Them Run

What is this that we pray upon
silly little notion coveted by emotion
stray from the path then call out for help
doubt falls in and spreads about
the night comes alive with inner thought
the howls of the past loom in the dark
crouched toes gripped ready for pounce
straight for the fear it will grab it by the throat
shaken and cold running from ghosts
constantly driven away even from love
then a whisper sworn from somewhere afar
voices play tricks when the grey ever looms
bone cold the shivers climb one's spine
numbing the brain in order to blind
favoring the blackness from the light
as if forgiveness wasn't an answer to fight
nay no question was considered or even formed
just the fear that makes them all run !

(by Roelin Davis all rights reserved 1/3/2013)