In His Golden Prime

It was in his golden prime when I saw him.

Standing at the other end of the forest,

Blocking the only exit that I could see.

I knew this would be the final battle.

Every breath, his chest rose and fell.

It happened perfectly each time.

I drew my knife from the holder.

This would be the end of everything.

I knew he was there,

But I never paid attention at first.

I could only notice all of the eyes around the forest,

Except for his.

The forest changing from the dullest black to the most vibrant yellow.

It was absolutely disgusting,

Until I realized what the eyes belonged to.

All at once the monkeys had started screeching and trying to attack me.

The leaves rushed past my face,

And the claws never stopped coming towards me.

They began to pile at my feet as I slashed each and every one.

I almost didn’t hear the noises coming from behind me.

Luckily my knife was long enough to reach over my shoulder.

I noticed him falling to the ground quickly.

It was him, the real him.

On the ground with blood pooling around his head,

I saw him-in his golden prime.

Brienna Ratliff Poetry: Widget