A feeling
A presence
Amidst the silence, it echoes.
Never behind
It shadows unbound
Stepping in my prints
Even when I sprint.
Always lurking
Always seeking
A stalker,
A prowler.
The haunting thought of it,
Like a crest in my chest.
An essence cautious, I’ve become
An untamed conscience, I’ve become
It is consequence,
The echoes of my misdeeds.
Emmalase
Emmalase