A shadow.
He´s always behind me.
Never continued walking, hovever not everytime to see.
Black like the night and deep like an other dimension.
He don´t looks like me, hovever it is my image.
The fingers long and thin. the body warped into the height and the face swallows of the devil.
No matter where I go, he´s following me.
In the Edge he´s standing and watching me, when I wanna to make my body to fall asleep, in the mirror the teeths are bared, the eyes are deep black, the nails ready to kill and the skin so pale, as it have seen a ghost.
The anxiety in front of him is always perennial, but the conscience just always distorting.
From where does he come from?
What are the words, does he is whispering to me?
Do you know from whom I speak?
A shadow.
He´s always behind me.