This is All Happening Too Fast

You've put the forest on the run.

It's frightened of you. It cannot

rest for long enough

to let the blood dry, to let the breath

return.

Pay attention.

You have some parallel metaphor

or maybe it is simile.

I forget. But I am sure.

This fear you cause

grips you tightly. And you will know.

Soon. Maybe, sooner

than comfort can survive.

Done