Poison pens

Who made who?

   Poison pens reach through the inner layers of innocent minds. I killed you on paper over a million times for which can only be cast as fictional crimes. I can't be stopped lurking in the backdrop without methods to being successfully cropped. I see you when you sleep. I see you when you cry as I create the tears in your well-placed eyes. I am the creep that you hear when you feel something that becomes nothing near. The shadows hide-to-form lines as a ruse, of the story that is you. Oh, what to now do to you? My unlucky damsel in a red dress. Maybe play you like a symphony? Where ever note is death of an unfortunate soul. Whether it's in your box called paper or ever line I type on this screen to your dying screams. I can't seem to get enough of you friend, from your fiend. I mean, it's fine, you being mine for all time. You're my favorite toy...my boy.

   Wait... I didn't write those last two words!  I control you. As you write another line before my next fictional crime. As I feel something piercing the inner layers of my not so innocent mind. I feel you there, but it's like you cropped yourself out of my backdrop. "Uh will you stop!" I scream to a shadow that won't budge while letters form words on a screen not by me, notably. No. I am plagued by random creeps, but there is no one around the corner to meet. Now that I think of it, I can't remember my last sleep. Something not right as I  go back to write. These thoughts I no longer fight as I go back to write, but try as I might, something doesn't feel right. It's like deja vu. It's like me and you, but who controls who? I do. "Stop it!" I screamed into the surrounding mist to a response of nothingness. So I take this un-aimable clinched fist and continue on with this death kiss. As I laugh at a million ways of your demises by your eyes and in a circle that knows no time, reality bends in worlds of world of pretend, as I haunt you for haunting me, poison pens.

by the unknown sith...or is it?