William Sinclair Manson

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My-Poetry / Writings · 1 May 2017

My Poetry. The stalker.

 He hides behind the bushes 
 spying on his latest prey 
 who knows why he does it 
 No one can say. 
 A mind so torn with infatuation 
 scared he will be caught 
 remaining in his camouflage 
 to which his mind has brought. 
 For weeks, he has been watching?
 His stalking out of control
 insecurities blind him
 dodging the odd Police patrol
 Innocent distractions
 fixated by his actions
 Will he ever let her know?
 He fears for her reaction.
 Eventually she notices
 him glancing from the trees
 Who is he why is he here?
 She starts to feel the sleaze.
 In the morning she opens the window blinds
 to face a brand-new day
 when she closes them again at night
 He will not go away.
 In his mind this is innocent
 as he confronts her wanting to speak
 I wonder if she will think bad of me
 Will she think I'm a freak!
 But alas the fear grows fiercer
 he cannot find a way
 instead, he looms in the shadows at night
 And continues in the day.
 The stalking over takes him
 he cannot live his life
 he wants this girl so badly
 Will she be my wife?
 His stalking days are numbered
 as the Police close in on his trail
 and once more is arrested
 And held without any bail.

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