The light is struck away in a cold confusing slash of night
  Black creeping at my windowsill signifying the strangeness of unfamiliar surroundings
          Changed and twisted by the lack of sound the sleep of others brings
      I stay roused in the dark
      Silence biting at my ears
            My mind asking itself rhetorical questions
            

        Pacing and pacing and pacing
         and pacing and pacing

Staring out my window at slanted shadows that seem to smile back
           They're very telling
They want to get in, and bad.
  


       *I pray to God they don't.