NOT A POEM

[ Just a word before I start, THIS IS NOT A POEM. Its a story I wrote for English. Really random, I pretty much wrote down what ever came into my head. It was sposed to be about writing storues but I got distracted. The stalker in it is an image of Kurt Cobain imprinted in my mind... its been disturbing me lately so I put it on paper, website, whatever.]

English class, second period, every oneâ??s preoccupied with some party coming up, chatting and scrambling down the words that the teacher puts on the board. I sit, staring blankly at the piece of paper placed in front of me.
An image flashes through my mind and I feel him enter. I leave silently, no one notices, and walk down the stairs almost without purpose. I leave the school gates and I see the old beggar lady sitting down on the corner, her legs mangled stumps. I flick her a coin and quicken my pace.
I hear his footsteps behind me, slow, absent and calm, but I know what heâ??s doing, heâ??s done it before and Iâ??m not letting him. He does this on purpose every now and then.
I wake up and the beggar lady is still in her usual position, kneeling on her stumps. Itâ??s a sad reminder of something I once knew but have forgotten. Sitting there, stuck, unable to move from this horrible suppressing feeling of loss.
I walk on and turn the corner, a puddle on the ground and I see him in the reflection behind me. I keep walking a little faster this time but hes following me. I get home and run to my bedroom, hide myself in the sheets but heâ??s already found me.
I scramble out the window, climb the fence and run. I run across the road, down the street, to the corner and keep running. I climb the gates to the cemetery and fall to my knees, and there he is, standing above me, looking down. There is no more life left in me to avoid him.
Just don't look up, I tell myself, don't look at him, if you can't see him then he's not there. He kneels down to my level and whispers in my ear something I've heard before but cannot understand. Then he slips away. His image leaves my mind and I take a deep, empty sigh of sadness rather than relief.
Then I climb to my feet, I follow him, half wanting to, half resisting. He stops and he turns around smiles at me then disappears.
I kneel over his grave and place a pen to the word paper in front of me, now covered in writing, and write...
The End.