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The Hunt

Suddenly I turn and look behind me. 
I know it's there, it's trying to find me.
   A powerful dark, and bitter energy. 
Possessed with anger and pain of past atrocities. 
   Controlling my thoughts and acts on the daily. 
Until I exorcised myself and set me free.
   To live prosperous and happy. 
But it's thirsty and hungry. 
   When I sleep, it hunts for me. 
When I'm awake, it hunts, for me.
   Forever awake, it doesn't sleep. 
It knows my scent, and possesses others for a moment that's brief. 
   It moves on, for it knows its not me.
Sometimes when I see, sudden shadows, I think it's found me.
   Others mistake howls as wind, but it cries for me. 
It's energized by it's need to feed on me.
   But I relish in the moments of knowing it's misery. 
I know it's scent also, and it will never find me.
   It hunts in the places of the old me, and where I might be. 
It knows not where I dwell, the places of the new me.
   For I have equipped myself, with tools for survivability. 
I have studied its ways, and track it silently. 
   I remember the days of regret it cast on me. 
Revenge is wanted, but I move patiently. 
   Mistakes can not be made, they may lead to fatality. 
My day is coming, to end this journey. 
   The look of surprise in its eyes, when it sees it's me. 
And the knowledge of knowing it knows I'm there for it.
  For I to am on the hunt.
   
   

Copyright © Malcolm Burrell

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