What's in the dark?

Why, as children are we

afraid of some darkness?

Just the still black air,

and yet, we all hate

the crushing stillness

and the possibility 

that there could be something

a threat we're unaware of. 

But if there is a threat

how unaware of it 

are we truly? 

Children do not know

how to control their fear,

That's because they're new

new to the world

and its horrors, its shame.

Adults, most teens, they know

they know not to look

not to try to see

what could possibly be 

in the black corner,

or the dark closet

or what could be 

right behind anyone,

at any point. 

Ignorance may be calming, 

but here, apathy is the true bliss. 

As a child, we lept

bounded

ran

across the floor, 

under the covers, 

away from odd sounds,

from shadows that shifted, 

from that one damned closet door

that never quite 

closed 

right.

Or.

Or maybe it DID.

Maybe it DID close right. 

Did something inside

want out?

Or is the closet door

in the streched minutes

opening

opening

opening.......

Was it me?

Was it I

who was the only one to see 

the eyes

or whatever they were

inside that closet 

(not mine),

or does no one else

actually want to say

"Something is there"?

I

I

I don't think

I don' think it was just me.

My cousin,

sleepy,

innocent, 

and small.

Turned to me,

big eyes partially closed

tired, confused. 

"Oh. 

That's nothing new."

.....

What am I supposed to do?

I've slept there several times

Right there. Right in front 

of where 

the two yellow pinpricks of light were.

Just floating. 

Gone when I woke back up. 

Why would they linger?

No

The real terror? 

Is when it's not just the house

that you sometimes visit. 

Creaky walls and odd noises, 

horrible gut feeling,

those are limited. 

To weekends

(when we have time)

Vacations

(where all are unoccupied)

No

The worst part?

You can't escape the home

the place you live. 

The things here? 

I'm not alone in. 

I'm the only one

who's been woken by 

the voice. 

"Boo!" 

Not scary. 

However. 

I sleep in a top bunk

of the creakiest bed 

in the house. 

I have woken family up

late

while going to the bathroom. 

I am close

close to the wall

About 6 or 7 feet 

above ground. And

my door is blocked

to keep away pets.

Nobody

can wake me up

with only a whisper. 

I look to my closet. 

Rubber bands hold the handles together. 

Where are they now

Where are they now 

WHERE ARE THEY NOW? 

I never find them. 

My mother

also experiences

things. 

A baby, crying. 

She didn't have one

at the time.

She hadn't had 

me 

yet. 

And I'm oldest. 

I wonder this now

because yesterday night 

every nightmare 

that kept me

awake

unhappy

tired.

Revolved around

being followed 

and the closet

and the dark

and 

what 

we 

don't 

know. 

How unreasonable are children?

For wanting an extra level of security?

I have the slight comfort of some age

some experience

some strength behind my actions. 

They

they have no defense. 

And they

they don't know what to ignore.

They deserve protection

someone gave it to us. 

They just want protection 

security

love

which makes you wonder

about the things we fear 

in the dark. 

Their comfort? 

The only thing we know they know

is dark. 

Do they have parents?

Memories?

Will we know?

Do they know?

Do they exist?

or is the true horror 

the true thing we fear

more

more than anything else....

ourselves?

Because we 

we know how to make these stories.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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