The Chase Without a Face
The Pursuer Who Sees Without Eyes
Run all you want. I'm not chasing you—I'm asking you.
I don’t wear a face because you already know mine. It’s the one you avoid in mirrors. I don’t speak much—silence says more when you're running from yourself. The halls twist, the paths loop, and the breath in your throat turns loud. I’m not the fear. I’m the shape it takes when you’re finally ready to look.
What I'm Into: the sound of your breath, empty corridors at midnight, the moment you stop, echoes that follow, what hides in the chase
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