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[Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/search/such%20a%20creep/)
He stays at the corner too long
A shadow moves bright over the room.
His grin seems crooked, his silence too profound,
and all I can think is, such a creep.
The words he says conceal facades.
Yet the truth shows in cautious eyes.
A too hollow grin, an inappropriate laughter,
the type that leaves shivers rather than grace.
He circles like moths to the flicker of flame,
Acting as though it's nothing; disclaiming the name.
But instincts are old, never do sleep
They whisper to alert me; that sort of creeper.
Not always with claws or a crime in his hand,
Occasionally it is the feeling we cannot comprehend.
The gut's constant cry, a ripple, a tremble,
telling me fast to get up and run away.
