I follow you when you visit your mom. I follow you home. I follow you wherever you go. You can run. You can hide. But I will find you in time my dear. For you to meet your demise. When I encounter you don’t look surprised. For that look will be the face forever. When your stalker claims your life with his
knife. And that will be the end of you. While your parents cry boo who. You will be down in my basement forever. Under a box of junk. Or you might be in my trunk along with the
others who came across my glare. For they now have the same type of rare expression
on their face. The expression of death and sorrow. That the police can’t borrow. Because it’s mine and I will take it from
the blind. Spirits who gaze and wonder. Why I had to slaughter them. Watch out or I might target your next of kin. Because it’s my pleasure Gwen.