Knock knock,
On the door.
I want to be alone

With each pound,
A little light breaks through
Giving me a glimpse
Of the tall shadows I choose to live with

The knocking becomes desperate
I can feel the urgency in the constant sound
Of wood splintering
I don’t want to move.

My shadows give me comfort
The light is too frightening to be in.
Why can’t they stop knocking?

They begin to kick
And kick,
The door remains
As if un phased by the toil of them
Who want me out

Why do they bother,
I’m okay here.
I assume.

The knocking slows to a stop

and one last, soft and barely heard
Tap
Somehow shakes me to my core.
Knocking my door to the ground.

The tall shadows are whisked back into the dark

The wood is filled with vines,
Burnt and corroded

And as I peer into the blinding light

I see blood dripping down
my own hands.