Dead forests

I run like I’m racing a bullet,
As tears blind my eyes and choke in my gullet,
And I can’t breathe,
I race the winds though fifty trees,
But I know you’re just too swift; you’ll catch up to me.

Sunlight breaks through darkened forests,
But bare woods leave no place to hide,
I close my mouth, for I have promised,
Not to say a word, for it’s a lie.

I guess I’m not good with first impressions,
I’ve left you with wicked thoughts and mild depression,
Well that’s just me,
Leaving a trail of mass destruction,
A working progress, a corrupt mind under construction.

Skidding to a halt at a sudden drop,
Beneath me, slopes lined with dead leaves,
I know you’re here soon, and I’ve no time to stop,
So sliding down the banks I graze my knees.

Broken branches and fiery foliage,
Greet me as I gracefully fall.
Slicing through my skin, they dig in,
Catching at my clothes, but I won’t call.

Hitting the ground, rolling to my feet,
And hurtling off once again,
I can hear your footsteps pounding behind me,
As I plummet through the woods, in pain.

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To whom this concerns, I don’t know if it’s your weird way of trying to help me, by making me run, but I seriously don’t need it right now.

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oh, and if anyone can see what the forests and trees are a metaphor for, well done, the poem has two meaning so look close when you read.

emma x