Knock Knock Poem by Hannah Shier

The enemy -
he's hounding me.
What?
You don't believe me?
What -
You don't believe that I can hear those thumps, those knocks, those hisses, those growls and snarls and moans and groans that pull at me and yank at me and keep me up every night?
I can't focus on anything in the day, except for those times -
which is every time.
The sleepless nights: the hollow, sunken eyes; skin dangling off bones; a haze filled mind so nothing can come in except for the fear. Fear for what has come, is here, is coming, and will come.

Fear - is it, truly, only in your head?