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I walk quickly this night

from those who lurk from sight.

The wind gives a whistle, a sigh,

as the strands of my hair lift high.

The moon hides its face.

I quicken my pace.

Shadows surround me.

Footsteps behind me.

Hands circle my neck.

Is that a love peck?

He takes my blood.

I fall in a red flood.

Will I belong to him?

He watches with a grin.

I’ve become a nightwalker,

a present from my stalker.

PREY FOR THE DEAD by Susanne Leist