Stares they seem to touch me
Brush against my hardened shield.
I no longer fail to confront them
I know if I turn they won't be there
At times I start to worry for my mental health
Cause countless times I felt a fool
Paranoid dispite no proof
My eyes would never cease
to scrutinize the room
The person present besides me
Was always different and nobody I knew
These times I might have been paralyzed
Or chose to up and run back home
In the darkness was the safety of my room.
My lonely life, was still my terrible truth
If was crazy then just maybe I should not
Submit the eyes to my demise.  
But when you're crazy, please tell me
How to know the truth?
I feel the eyes.  Or maybe I've come too have a ***** loose?