I had a poem that I wrote a while back, the only person I showed it to was my English professor, anyone want to comment?

Stalked

I am being followed.
Day and night,
night and day.
I have never seen his face,
nor do I know his name,
but he follows me.

He follows me into dark alleys,
and in my home, waiting.
Waiting for his time to strike..
No one knows who he is,
no one has seen his face,
only until he strikes do they see.

He is real, I know he is.
He has followed many before me.
Danced in the sands of time,
leaving nothing but scattered footprints.
Made kingdoms fall, and slain the great.
All without a trace.

Now he follows me, in my death bed.
I see him through the glass,
moon-soaked cowl.
Erase me from the world,
in one fare swoop,
Still waiting, this man they call Death.