Terror

Submission for Great Britian anthology, short poem on knife crime.

Walking down the dreary alley at the back of my house, my palms began to sweat and my heart raced faster than ever before.

I was being followed, at least I was sure I was being followed, it was the second time that week I had felt a sinister chill as I walked down the alley.

It was like everywhere I looked lay shadows of menacing people, sounds of cries filled my ears as I went further into the long winding alley.

I felt cold breath on my neck and began to shake profusely the sharp knife piercing and slashing skin, pouring blood all over me.

I screamed in terror as I realised I wasn’t bleeding, but the knife I took for safety had killed someone else.

I had killed someone else, ME!