was he holding something, too?

loud noises frighten me

but not as much as

burning buildings or

my parents dying

outside I can hear the rain

feel the cold

a man touches his lips

with a finger to me

I can see him through

the woods and try not to smile

when he comes closer

an hour ago a girl was shot

and as she died she said

she was afraid to go

I’m not afraid of death

like she was or at least

I pretend not to be

similar to how I pretend

there aren’t any ghosts

in my attic or this man

doesn’t have black eyes

when I was a child I wasn’t

afraid of the dark

now I think I am