computing everything you do
watchful like a deer behind the brush
calculating every single move
You cannot see them staring
Their whispers will never reach your ears
Carefully, be very careful of their conversation
It is colored by your fear
Constantly they are planning
Painting a thought elaborately
Communicating silently
They create a strategy
Some might call it intuition
Others call it bureaucracy
But the fear that drips across my eyes
calls it self fulfilling prophecy
