Hundreds of the same poem keep turning up at Fifth Harmony concerts. They're plastered all across the walls, scattered on the floor, they're everywhere. Yet the poem changes ever so slightly every show. Who are the poems for? They are all for the one and only Lauren Jauregui. Everyone wants to know who the anonymous poet is, even Lauren. What happens when the poems stop one day? What happens when Lauren finds out who the anonymous poet is?
London UK
Lauren's POV:
"Lauren it's happened again"
Those were the first words I heard as I opened my eyes to the blinding light coming through the window. Apparently it's unusual in the UK for sun, so I'll appreciate it every chance I can, since we will be here for a while. I yawned and got out of bed to start changing into my clothes for the day.
Normani stood at the end of my hotel bed with a look I've seen many times before. It was the look of 'You need to sort this shit'. I've been seeing that look every morning before a show.
Basically ' The Anonymous Poet' had struck again, leaving hundreds, maybe thousands of the same poem all around the stadiums. They were taped to walls, to the ceilings, the floors and even the stage! Who were the poems for? That would be me. 'The Anonymous Poet' seemed to like writing about me, he or she would add another line to the poem for every show. When I say every show, I mean EVERY show. All across America, Europe, Japan and even Australia. We've even tried to make last minute shows to get it to stop, but this person seems to be 3 steps ahead of us!
The strange thing was, at first it annoyed me and creeped me out to no end. But now that I've read the poem and analysed it, I can't help but fall in love with the way the person uses their words. Yet if I even met this person I don't know how the hell I would feel, would that be like falling for your stalker? I'm not sure.
And it had happened again. Mani pulled me towards her and shoved her phone in my face. She had been to the venue already and had taken pictures of everything. I'd seen this so many times, that it wasn't anything new. I got dressed as she started talking to me. I decided on my basic black ripped jeans, a random band t-shirt, my denim jacket that was covered in patches, and my fabulous red doc martens. As I got dressed Mani told me what had happened again.
"Lauren look at this! It keeps getting worse, they've even managed to get backstage! Management won't do anything about it bc they think it's good promotion! Apparently a weird poet stalker is good promotion!? They can't catch the person, the cameras were cut off again for exactly 6 minutes and 27 seconds! There's no sign of them AGAIN. Oh and here's your blue rose they left AGAIN as well. Honestly Lauren this needs sorting!"
Mani passes over the blue rose which is left on centre stage before every show, which has this shows version of the poem tied to it. No one knows but I keep every single one of the roses in a box that I hide in the bottom of my suitcase. The roses are always the artificial kind, as though the person knew I'd keep them. I placed the rose on my bedside table as I continued to get dressed. I looked down at the rose and then back to Mani who was now sat on the bottom of my bed.
"Ughhh why does the person keep following us, honestly I don't get them. It's the same damn poem every time with just a new line added! They cut the cameras for 6 minutes and 27 seconds which is obviously to do with my birthday. Like it's creepy Mani but I can't do anything about it! The harmonizers have tried, the police have tried, everyone. It's like this person is trained for this shit. However there is one thing I need to tell you..."
I looked at Normani with such apprehension, and she stared in my eyes as if she knew exactly what I was going to say.
"Damn it Lauren don't tell me you like the poems and the whole thing about leaving them everywhere!?"
YOU ARE READING
The Anonymous Poet (Lauren/You)
FanfictionHundreds of the same poem keep turning up at Fifth Harmony concerts. They're plastered all across the walls, scattered on the floor, they're everywhere. Yet the poem changes ever so slightly every show. Who are the poems for? They are all for the on...