Knock Knock The door is closed, I hear people knocking, Wanting to get in, I am paralyzed by fear, I am sitting on my couch, Knowing I should let them in, What do they really want? To steal, to hurt, to betray? How can I trust them? I do not really know them, How can I get to know them if I do not open the door? Can I get up? Can I let myself believe goodness still exists? I have to if I want to live, I can still hear them knocking. — Elizabeth Briick, 19   Submit your poetry, artwork and photos for publication on WebStreetCafe.