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Poem

I saw the beast in the mist of the fog,
it was crawling out of a deep hollow log.
Was the mist of the fog distorting my vision,
I tried to think and not make a rash decision.
I inhaled the fog as it crept into my soul,
as the beast crept closer my heart beats out of control.
Blood was dripping from it's grotque fangs,
as the meal from it's mouth so violently hangs.
In the fog not sure if it can see me,
hoping in this dense atmosphere I'll be free.
Despite the fog it can trace my moves,
destined to find a way so my mind can be soothed.
Somehow the beast can smell my fear,
my shallow breathes I know it can hear.
The fog stalls it's vision for a time,
clawing and scratching as I try to climb.
The fog somehow lifts and now it can see,
as I climb up a massive towering tree.
Rocking and swaying I wish it would stop,
with one hard thrash I finally drop.
Wishing so much this fog would come back,
for the beast has hunted and found my track.

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