Ronilyn's Personalia

Big red rocks, small green shrubs 
Bright intense sun beating down.
Cars drive by, but don’t stop.
100 miles away from the nearest town.

A little shop, a restaurant.
A string of motel rooms. 
At the bottom of the deepest valley, 
Something strange in the air looms.

The sky is blue, no clouds. 
The air is cold and dry. 
Feels like someone’s watching. 
Somethings going awry. 

A cloaked figure walks loudly.
The mirror seems as if it’s double,
There’s a hole to the attic, 
I feel like I’m in trouble.

Tired from travel.
I lay down to bed, 
Surely in the morning 
I won’t be dead...