September 28, 2009
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Someone is stalking me.
I hear the leaves rustle behind
As I walk home from the bus.
I use my peripheral vision
To peek behind me
But there’s no one there.
Looking ahead, I catch
A glimpse of something
Following, quietly,
But I can hear the swish of cloth,
And it sounds closer.
My heart is pounding,
And my shoes are scraping against
The road. Weighed down
By my backpack,
My potential that
My textbooks can uncover.
They slow me down.
And when I reach my house
I see
My stalker is already there.
Sitting on the railing
And conversing with my
Shadow. Even wearing
My shoes, with my smile.

Why is my stalker me?

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