Somethin - a Poem

somethin movin in the dark
somethin followin in the park

evenin stroll turns to a run
lookin back reveals no one

somethin movin all the same
somethin playin a nasty game

runnin down an empty street
somethin nippin at sneakered feet

nearin front door; almost there
leapin up over every stair

slammin shut the old oak door
hopin that there'll be no more

slumpin silent, scared to death
tryin hard to catch a breath

waitin brings no further fear
strainin now for sound to hear

nothin out there now but the night
nothin there to give a fright

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I can't help but feel that there should be more to this, but this is as far as I can go. The style I chose for this limits me too much, to the point I can't say yea or nay to whether something was chasing the subject of this poem or even what that something was. More detail, I think, might have been nice.

I may come back to this at a later date. Or redo it using a less restrictive style of writing. There something about the rhythm that I like...