deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Stalker
She can't breathe. He's creeping up
through the window pane,
he watches her bathe -
she can't breathe. Tears fall from her eyes.
The stalker. He lingers in the ever-dark.
He waits like the predator. She can't escape his prey.
Where is the good Lord now?
The kettle whistles. He's creeping up
through the window pane,
the hot water down her throat.
Welts rise like soldiers on the inside. Tears fall from her eyes.
"I'm frightened. He frightens me."
through the window pane,
he watches her bathe -
she can't breathe. Tears fall from her eyes.
The stalker. He lingers in the ever-dark.
He waits like the predator. She can't escape his prey.
Where is the good Lord now?
The kettle whistles. He's creeping up
through the window pane,
the hot water down her throat.
Welts rise like soldiers on the inside. Tears fall from her eyes.
"I'm frightened. He frightens me."
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