The Man Next Door Poem by Connor Jones

My brother asks why I sleep with my knife.
Only because I'm scared for my life.
A mysterious man with a bad past next door.
He's done many crimes and unfortunatly more.
There is no blood on this blade.
It's shows how beautifuly made.
A work of art none the less.
With a past of such a mess.
Had wrong turns along the way.
If it changes we can only pray.
I'm up for a battle in the middle of the night.
My brother asks why me and this man fight.