The Man

November 21, 2007
By Mina Sattari, Yorba Linda, CA

The man standing in the room
I see him but hes not there.
He is wearing dark clothes
and hes carrying a knife
I know my time has come to an end.
But I blink and he is gone
where did he go?

My legs buckle,
I can feel the adreniline,
it rushes through me and I shake.
My breath runs short and my heart beats faster,
my hands are sweating.
My eyes dart across the room so fast
black out
and I still can't find him.

The man that's gonna kill me
hes come for me so many times,I expect him.
I could pick him out of a line up,
though I've only seen him in the shadows.
The glare of his knife
lights up a sliver of his face.

I hate him,
for he will not reply to my begging.
I tell him to get it over with and kill me already,
but he doesn't listen.
When will he do the deed,
I would rather be dead
than have to see that look on his face again.

It pisses me off how
he will show himself once
and leave me alone to panic.
They say panic attacks never killed anyone
but he can, he has power over me.

"He isn't real."they say,
I find that hard to believe.
He looks as real as you or me.
But we can't disappear like he does,
its a shame cause thats all I want to do.

When I die please don't cry,
just know I'm happy,
because I will never have to see the man again.
He will have finally done the deed.
And could you please
tell him "Thank You" for me.

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