Waiting


Watching the girls young and free,
The man in the grey sweats stares.
I hate the way he looks at me.

He answers to a pretend caller, but I know he can see
The children playing at the park,
Watching the girls young and free.

He slows his bike when I round the tree,
Waiting to slither in my tracks.
I hate the way he looks at me.

Flyers of little Anna dressed in green
Cover the neighborhood as he,
Watches the girls young, but no longer free.

I open my curtains and what do I see?
The man standing across my street,
I hate the way he is watching me.

The cops find Anna, but she no longer smiles with glee
Her mangled form rots in a ditch as
He watches the girls young and free,
I pray that he no longer looks at me.

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