Too Irate

Together we run, in circles it seems,
Drenched in blood and deafened by screams,
Bushes nudge at shins scratched bare,
But he's too irate to notice or care.

Relentless, wind whistles through trees,
Bathed in darkness on cold breeze,
Branches reach out, my pants tear,
But he's too irate to notice or care.

Darkness looms, enemies of sight,
A log caught in a ray of moonlight,
A foot caught before it became aware,
But he's too irate to notice or care.

Sprawled in the foliage, I hide my face,
Soon he realises, quickening his pace,
One look in fear is all I dare,
But he's too irate to notice or care.

Glinting by the moon, his knife at his leg,
Demeaning security in my wish to beg,
Brutal hands reveal my legs so fair,
But he's too irate to notice or care.

One more look is safe it's deemed,
Penetrating mine, his eyes gleamed,
A look that physically striped me bare,
But he's too irate to notice or care.