Obstacles in a weed covered lot
Some small, others foreboding
Aged bottles with faded labels
Splintered wood
Weathered, serrated, rough
A rusty……….something
Gnarled and arrogant
Black spot on the hard ground
Remains of a campfire
A few tiny bones
Perhaps the site of a last meal
Footprints cast in the dried mud
Not Bigfoot, just an old boot print
Half of a chain-link fence
Moves with the wind
Quietly squeaking it’s song
A torn t-shirt, a sock, wicker basket
Decayed fruit attracting flies
Painted images on everything tall
Cardboard piled high near a wall
Certainly a shelter, but for whom
Won’t go near as I’m too afraid
Mental state always on my mind
Shortcut was a good idea…or was it
Stepping quicker, sight more blurred
Flash of a metal can, and dandelion
A child’s toy or at least a part of one
Heart beating fast
The distance closing
Over my shoulder sunlight
Harshly shines on broken glass
Eyes raw, fixed forward
Ragged breath comes
Cold pavement my finish line
The curb is in sight
Imagining a hand pulling me back
I give in to fear and run
Pumping legs and arms
Worn tires in my path
Stumbling in terror
Attacked by imaginary shadows
My side erupts in pain
Knees bleeding, elbows raw
Quickly on my back, scanning
My only company is solitude
No sound, no soul, just nothing
But the debris in a weed covered lot
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