I block out the sun with light
of my own, flip the switch and shine
brightness into shadows, scaring
the demons away. Crosses hang
on my walls, but don’t protect
me from the dark. So I turn
on my lights and block out the sun
rising boldly in the sky.
There’s potential in this poem.
I wonder if something like this fills the middle part that you think is flattening out.
“…brightness into shadows. The light, like crosses in my wall, don’t protect me from the dark, can’t scare away the demons. So I…”