Escape (fear poem for emotions workshop)

Escape

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who's that woman 'bout to fall?
She, with hair of silver and gold,
advancing in years and dreams untold.
Ghosts and demons at her heels,
caring not for her plaintive appeals.
On her trail, they have her scent.
She runs on energy nearly spent,
For to find safe haven's arms,
To protect her from craven harms.
Evils meant to undo her soul,
Chase her to death’s dark atoll.
Running hard through the night,
Barely daring to win this fight,
Stumbling over stone and rock,
Time grows ever shorter: tic-tock.
If she can but out distance this throng,
She’ll soon hear morning’s sweet song.
If she can but make the dawn,
They will turn to smoke, their power gone.
ash to ash and dust to dust,
they lose this time by her footfall’s thrust.