in the raw web

there's never fiction in the light
the time for telling tales is dark
what we decide to read and mark
seems much more lofty in the night
and yet we see with normal sight
past the rough and peeling bark
into the place that's wholly stark
and manage to control our fright
a story can build years of fear
in any mind that's fresh and young
things always seem just out of place
when we have no choice but to hear
the bitterness of aging tongue
and see the anger in each face