Paranoia

When you're being hunted, you don't
Realize it right away

But you know your heart knows
That
Those pinprick eyes don't lie

And you know to not turn around
Because that's when they
GET you.

You may not see
The thing that stalks
But you smell it

You hear its labored breath
--maybe your own--
And you
Smell
The musty smell of unclean
Filth
--maybe yours as well--

So you run
Because you know

--It will catch you in the end--

Its the only thing
That gives hope.