Anxiety Hunting

Oh, what a day
No sun and no rain, no busy people along the way

The park is lonely 
the swings are empty
the grass is thirsty
the rusty decor on the fence is familiar 
opened gate and its ominous creaking

Whistling of leaves sing with tired breath
Sad eyes tracing the ground, seeking
find a pedestal with a reek of death
Behind a pair of eyes peaking
Footsteps squeaking
Time is ticking


Careful steps
approach the crouched frame
The absent light unable to reveal
the figure buried under the trunk's shade

Only hint to its prescence here
Were shoeless feet covered in dirt
Curiosity drawing it near
showed a flustered face filled with fear

No chance to flee
No escaping from me
No getting away 
From your anxiety

What a perfect time
To find hopeless prey
What a petty state
A suicidal stray

Oh, what a day!
To meet up with you and play

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