The Follower

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  • Dedicated to Windy
                                    

I see him. He's there.

He is everywhere.

Behind corners.

In trees.

He will not fool me.

I swear, he's a stalker.

But claims to not be.

Although not word, is all that I've heard.

The sights, that I've seen, can be horrorfying.

Most that I tell, that I am begging for help.

All just call me insane.

I know he's watching.

I know that he sees.

I know that he whispers, my name silently.

And whom is creeper?

What may he be? 

They call me a loon, but he's just birdie.

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