14 years old
New Plymouth Girls’ High School

My worst fear is the dark.

Being afraid of the dark is dumb, I know but, I guess it’s not really the dark, it’s the noises.

I can’t get the noises out of my head, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard them, maybe they’re inside my head.

But the fact of not knowing bugs the human mind, so I being human understand this more than others.  I can’t cry at night anymore because cry comes naturally, I cry without tears, just like breathing I cry again, and again. It’s sadness at home or in my room door way, I try to take a step through but I stop and cry at the door step, just like breathing I cry without knowing. But in the dark I am aware, But I guess it’s just the dark it’s just the night, but I still feel alone at night, the monsters aren’t very good friends, but they make noises, so their sounds keep me company.

It’s funny isn’t it, the things that scare you most are the things that keep you company.

What do the voices say, you ask, well they’re like my buddies, the mean ones who don’t leave you alone, the ones that scream in your ear when you want to sleep.

They scream, “You’re so afraid of people leaving, you think that when they leave they’ll take parts of you with them and eventually that’ll be all that’s left: random parts. So you keep it all to yourself and became a puzzle no one could solve. You hide your last pieces deep in your soul, even you cannot figure you out. You struggle to analyse your breathing pattern, as if that’ll give you the answer, you tell yourself the greatest mysteries are left unsolved and maybe you should stay that way, broken and unsolved.”

It’s funny isn’t it, the things that you love the most are the things that get you killed.

This poem is part of the TEARAWAY Young Poets feature for National Poetry Day.

The Common Room