I am scared
But not of the monster under my bed.
But not of the undead.
But not of the demon in the hallway.
But not of the aliens in outer space doing the nae nae.
But not of the ghost in the boathouse.
But not of the bugs on my blouse.
But not of the scars on my wrists.
But not of the hurt that, in my heart, exists.
But not of the ability to get the flu.
But if how much I love you.