I feel aged, small and frail.
Your strange blue eyes spark
with a new, deceptive youth
It is time for me to hide:
Run, hide, lock your door,
cover your face, crouch to the floor
I am no match for your tongue or your strength.
I am no match for anyone.
Fear is creeping, thick and sharp
up my pale skin, slipping to my heart.
Behind my closet, in a secret room,
I hammer nails into a spindly square.
This blackness is deep and my lamp is cold,
but here in my haven your voice will never reach me.
Here your god will never find me.
But again your nightmares haunt me.
My door is locked, the window barred.
How can I still see what you see?
I am paralyzed by imaginary fear.
The strain pulls me down, crushing my lungs.
Then the demons crowd around
I feel them crawling in my chest.
You say that I should pray them out.
I pray and pray, but I am too afraid
to banish them aloud.
You say the demons cannot read my mind.
You say I have to speak to them,
but I breathe shards of voiceless glass,
and I am only twelve.