Poetry

Do you hear?
Can you see?
Isn't there a man following me?
I can see,
I can hear,
Especially when I look in the mirror.
To me he's white,
To others clear,
He follows me around,
and watches my every move,
Something about him doesn't sooth.


Don't leave me here!
Don't turn out the lights,
Something about him makes me fright.
I think he wants to kill me.
He's clung to me,
Like some kind of addict to weed.
It's driving me insane,
He keeps making it rain!
The dark is now nothing,
I fear him the most.


Or rather the fear that he is a ghost.