Paranoia

They're out to getcha!

Out!
Get out!
Gotta run!
I can't stay here,
like a sitting duck,
too dumb to know to fly.
If I stay here, they'll find me!
With satellites and tracers and...

Wait...
Do they...
Could they have...
What if they know?
I can feel the fear.
The way it numbs my bones.
But I need my bones to run!
Run from the choppers and men and-

Hush!
A knock.
At the door.
What if it's them?
Is this where I die?
What if I shut my eyes,
shut out the fierce prodding knocks?
Perhaps they'll give up their pounding...

Pause.
No sound.
They are gone.
They've flown away,
leaving behind them
a scared and flightless chick,
who jumps when he sees his shade,
wings clipped by the fear in his mind.

Author's Note

I was experimenting with increasing syllables in each line and any sort of comment/critique on the effect of this sort of steady increase would be nice. Also, any technical troubles with the piece would be nice to know about, as I have only just recently forayed into the world of poetry!

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

I think this works very well and you have caught the feeling of paranoia well - I know, I've experienced it! One minor point is that chick has the connotation of a female for me - but that might be a British usage.
Well done.
Regards,
Alan

[LastMonth]

Quite entertaining.
Very well written.
The Format, in which the length of the lines is going down like a half-pyramid of a sort is fantastic. I found it very pleasing.

And that line
''The way it numbs my bones.
But I need my bones to run!''

P-r-i-c-e-l-e-s-s.

I hope the messege got a cross.
Good job.