Paranoia

by Mariam A., 16

Paranoia is a little black cat, creeping up slowly
Paranoia is a shadow, omnipresent, always there

Paranoia slides up slowly, lurking, stalking, never-ending
Paranoia will never fade, just one small, infinitesimal step away

Paranoia doesn’t wane; she’s not the moon—she’s always waxing
Paranoia knows the tricks of the trade, how to concern and overwhelm

Paranoia churns up doubt—she takes joy and spits it out
Paranoia grows larger as the clock ticks and ticks and ticks and ticks

Paranoia hides in corners, it’s the webs and dust cast in darkness
Paranoia has always been—Pandora’s box couldn’t lock it in

Paranoia follows me, she’s the man speeding up behind me
Paranoia is an old friend, but she’s never a helping hand which she lends

Except is it? Could she be right? Could my worries be correct?
Or is every doubt I have, every inkling of anxiety, just a product of Paranoia?

She’s here while I sleep, her breath disturbing my slumber
Paranoia is in my closet, she’s the scary man under my bed

And for as long as I’ve known her, she’s been whispering soft murmurs
Convincing me I’m at the end, that this is it, doom is now

Paranoia knows my secrets, she knows what I fear and what I dread
Paranoia is glue, a premonition which will stick to me, uncomfortably

Paranoia waits at every turn, every darkened street, every alley, every hall
Paranoia is those girls at that table, their judgemental eyes casting silent comments

Paranoia has been. Paranoia will always be.
Waiting.
Watching.
Warning.
Wrong?

Manalapan, New Jersey