The Stranger

May 29, 2012
By Spencer Rogers SILVER, Brea, California
Spencer Rogers SILVER, Brea, California
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Every day I am followed by the stranger
By his coat, his hat, and his cane
Like street lights on every corner, telling you to go, not go, or slow down
He watches me, for good or bad, all the same

He scares me with his eyes
He stalks me in the night
Is he trying to protect me?
Or does he want me to die

Wait... did I just consider that he's good?
Well there's no way
He's a criminal
And I know not of any good in this world

This dark alley
This is where my father left me
To fend for myself
A thirteen-year old boy with no food or money

Angrily I leave this alley
And I enter a crowd
Sometimes to escape the stranger
I go where it is loud

But much to my dismay
I see him, he's there
I run away, I sprint
To anywhere but there

I find myself in the alley
Tired, beat, and crying
Suddenly I'm choking
And suddenly I'm dying

And then the choking ceases
And I gaze upon the stranger
Someone is running from him
The one who was the danger

Then I look into his eyes
I wish that moment would never end
The moment the stranger was no longer a stranger
But my father now my friend

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