Running, running
Why am I even running?
Turning around and looking
What is there to fear?
What could possibly be chasing me?
A mad man?
Waiting now
Waiting for whatever it was.
Blood
Fear
Blood and Fear?
Where is it coming from?
Looking around
Nothing to find
Looking down
The blood is mine
Along with the fear.
The blood is fresh
And still flowing.
Weakening…
And slowly dying
The fear growing
Now I know what I was running from.
The fear of dying.