Why is it that when I'm sitting alone in the dark
my imagination always tries to frighten me?
I don't want to know about ghosts and poltergeists,
who regard this house as their sanctuary.
I don't want to know about sleeping vampires
who wake up when it's time to drink my blood,
or the zombies that live and refuse to die,
who no longer dream, or care about love.
Don't fill my head with these scary thoughts,
so the hairs on my arms and neck stand proud.
Don't cast moving shadows before my eyes
and make the slightest noise seem loud.
I cannot take the easy way out by turning on the light.
That will prove I'm frightened of the dark.
I have to stand up, grin, and bear it, and face my fears,
despite that werewolf's howl, growl, and bark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem