Poetry

My throat and my joy and my lungs, 
Make a laugh at what once then was
So harsh at the time: I, confined, 
My legs strangled by the vines.

It seems fear fades along life's groan, 
For we fear worse when left alone 
The unknown things. Yet, When we grow, 
So do scarred memories below.

Our frames: walk, bond, and haunt do they, 
As dim-lit cobblestone streets lay
On the opposite side of day.
I'm 'fraid of what against I pray.

But why, why does the darkness bring
to me fear that in my ears rings, 
Rounding my head, haloed feelings
Of dread—visioned, mislead beings

Who are unseen to searching eyes, 
But listed to pounce once my cries
have died from the numbing inside, 
Which lingers like a child's white lies? 

Answered clearly — when we are young
And everything is left undone, 
Lights assigned by stars, not the sun, 
Give, by darkness, nowhere to run.