Obsessed

"Obsessed" they said,
"He's obsessed with you,"
And it sounds like an odd thing to say;
A stranger thing yet to think
But maybe there's some truth to it,
Because he's cold and he's dark
And he's lost in this world;
Alone in this world, and so very dark
And the brooding, inconceivable evil,
It gleams in his eyes,
Repulsive and eerie at the same time.
And his shadow in the dark,
Over you with a knife-
Troubling in it's likelihood.
The passion that is shown
In the way the spilled blood lies
Cold and calculated; premeditated art,
And he's so close to the edge,
So close to becoming the artist
And what if you're the muse?
You'll surely be the first to go.
Obsession or victim?
Maybe that's what they should have asked.
And you regret it now;
The mistake you made.
You should have stayed away,
And never said hello.
What a strange thing;
To predict your own death.

Nyamedo