A burned hand
Learns to fear the flame
In milliseconds
A baby fly
Knows to dodge the hand
Without thought
A fearful man
Speeds to squash the insects
As a reflex
But these are just impulses
A pair of eyes
Notices a statue
Out of position
A flicking ear
Tunes to silence
Filled with the fictitious
A trembling body
Feels the wind as cold
Now
Moving shadows chill the heart
More than darkness somehow
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