Sasaeng Poem

His phone ringing for the thousandth time, Has him feeling hopeless. Changing his private number once more, Has not deterred these strangers.

When taxis follow him everywhere he goes, He doubts his decisions, He dreamt of performing on bright stages, But this wasn’t part of his visions.

The staff tell him it’s part of the life he leads, No one gets spared. But twenty strangers waiting outside his home, Is not an experience he wants shared.

These people do not care for pandemics, They close in on him, He tells them to stay safe and distanced, They still reach for his skin.

Rushing through the crowd and to his car, He’s pulled the wrong way, His manager saves him just in time, Before he gets taken away.

He gets home after a full day of work, But he cannot rest, Even this last sacred space of his, They had to infest.

Letters in blood left for him to discover, His stomach turns, His underwear exchanged for theirs, Which he burns.

Singing and dancing dries out his throat, He’s handed iced tea, He looks at the staff as he chokes on his blood, She says, “remember me!”