Do you ever get the feeling that there’s someone watching as you enter every room, or is that just me?

Is the sense of someone else nothing more than a manifestation of moderate anxiety?

You walk to be avoided but the omniscient eyes follow your each and every move.

You shout into the darkness that you’re not afraid of them, it’s as though you have something to prove.

You’re big and you are tough, you’re the man about the house, not afraid to ruffle feathers when needs must.

But in reality when the push turns to shove this masquerade of masculinity will go bust.

If the eyes reached out to hold in insidious embrace the chances are I’d just run away and scream.

And then at one, I arise in a hot and panicked state and realise it was a terrible dream.

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