Overthink

Overthink

He walks through the corridor.

He meets a corner.

He thinks he might bump into someone.

He is left anticipating.

...

He waits.

He lets time plod.

He's left with many possibilities.

He starts to think.

...

Could it be some mutated body?

Dragging its frame across the floor,

Grasping out its bony hands.

Waiting for him, about to shriek.


Or could it be a trap?

Will a boulder come rolling?

Or an ambush awaiting?

Something there ready to meet him.


All the possibilities ravage him.

He swiftly turns, prepared.


Nothing is there.

It's just a corner.

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