Lacking wit, And of feeble mind, A silly twit, Filled his time, Tap tap tap, On a keyboard today, Tap tap tap, Watch the time go away, Wasted while watching whimsical wonders, Wax with wane, weather whittles wee wanderers, The poem is over and now I am speaking with you directly. I'm looking towards you but I'm not looking at you. I looking right behind you. There is something behind your head, and I don't think you realize it. Everytime you turn your head, it darts behind your field of vision. It is incredibly creepy. I can't describe it and nobody wants to acknowledge it. Every time you ask someone about it, will lie to you. To speak truth about it would make them acknowledge the existence of place they would rather not go. But it is right there. It is so fucking close. And it won't stop staring at you.