The Girl in Grey
I reek with paranoia, there are always large hands
grey and pasty
nosing their way through the glass
beckoning me over to them in faux soothing tones.
What ifs will kill me someday, that is what people tell me.
Nosy little mice, contaminating me with panic–
listen!
I run before I know what I am running from.
The apartment becomes rusty and the appliances all click and churn
–or is it the appliances?
One second is all it takes to die a ghastly death
–after all.
I do not even check the time before I run for my life.
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