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The Dark

A poem about what's not there

By William HousemanPublished 4 years ago 2 min read
The Dark
Photo by Timothée Duran on Unsplash

The things that aren’t there are the worst

Aren’t they?

Of course it started out with

The Dark

The unknowing place just beyond our field of vision

The light deprivation that just takes over our every sense-

CRASH!

What was that?

A monster of ambiguous form

Or a danger far more menacing

That Your Mind can not even comprehend

Then it moved on as we grew

The Dark was still there but we knew what lie within

But the Dark evolved as we did

The Dark

Instead of a lightless corner

The Dark

Became what was around the corner

In a more Metaphorical sense

You see

As I grew

The Dark was still there

Along with what goes bump in the night

Because although I have grown

With my Adolescence far behind me

Every creak is a burglar

Every crash is a bandit

And every wind blow is a murder

With contempt in their heart

And hate in their minds

While I still see these monsters of modern times

I am no longer afraid

I can fight

I can throw a punch

And god damn it I won’t go

Without first dealing as much as I get

With my bravery at an all-time high

Obviously I’m no longer afraid of the Dark

Right?

The Dark

The Dark is no longer what it seems

Because while the definition of the Dark

Is an absence of light

It is far more menacing to me now

Like I said

The Dark evolved as I did

The Dark is now not an absence of light

But an absence of knowledge

The Dark is what my roommate is talking about

On the phone

In the next room over

It is the slight downturn of your lips

As I say something that was on my mind

It is the Driver next to me on the highway

One lane over

As I attempt to change lanes

And I am terrified

Because while reason shows that it’s not about me

It’s just a natural reaction

They will obey the laws

I have no idea what lays in the Dark

Reason is the light that guides the everyday lives

Of my peers

Illuminating the unknown

And banishing the Dark

But that lantern is not a tool that I possess

It is not a weapon I weild to fight off the monsters

All I have is me

My Bravery

That seems so small now compared to the Dark

I am so tired

But don’t turn off the lights, please

Sit with me awhile

So I can rest

sad poetry

About the Creator

William Houseman

Poet based out of Los Angeles, CA. With no particular style and a lot of stories to tell, I'd love to have you sit awhile with me. You might learn something.

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