Bloody Home

With every last stride
every last quiet scream
something else is out there
something following me
it seems it will not flee
it is I who it deem
I am the target
of a thousand years pain
and yet with one good shrug
and a couple slits or cuts
it all dissappears
forming what I never believed
making me what I never saw
and as the blood forms a scab
I see it so clearly.
I am home,
and the ravens quietly caw.