Inktober 2019 #3: Bait

walking in the darkness
for years countless
my feet in tatters
pain no longer matters

my chest hollow
from blackest sorrow
back curved, head bent
my very soul rent

then in a distance, a light
a beacon, burning bright
I run fast as I can
to cover the wide span

yet even as I reached
for the light, I heard a screech
and the last thing I remember
are teeth as I was devoured