I hear things at night, In the dark. Things most people would dismiss In an instant. Wind against my window, Whisking away fallen leaves From the frosted ground. Creaks and groans as this Aging house grows even older. A little girl crying, Wanting someone to help. Needing anyone to listen, To answer her desperate pleas. I hear her every night, But there is no helping. She mirrors my actions, Imitates my feelings. We are two of the same, But the people who know me Only know her inverse. The image I strive to maintain, The one that slowly gnaws Away at my sanity. The true girl hides Beneath the surface, and emerges When the daylight leaves us cold And in the dark.