I am being followed
everyday, every minute
by a dark figure
that looks like me, mostly
the dark silhouette that lines my peripheral vision
It stares at me with hollow, sunken, dark eyes
I can hear the watchful glistening eyes moving with my gestures
I can feel them penetrating my viscera
It is deafeningly quiet
It ask me silent questions, which I don't have answers to
When I smile, it stares me down
I am not sure if it's my friend or foe
But it stays with me no matter I am sad or happy
It doesn't attack me or anything
It just makes me uncomfortable
It makes me sick.
It's the ghost, of fear.
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poems 2
PoetryI wasn't intending another Sad poems book but I find it hard to not feel the stories. I necessarily don't feel like that.
