I’m still afraid at night.
I’m still scared of what’s underneath my bed,
Or what’s behind my closet door.
Scared of my own thoughts inside my head.
Still afraid of what’s in the room with me,
Terrified of the unknown.

Scared of the thoughts that aren’t even mine.
They crawl into my mind like spiders on the floor.
Unrealistic sick and twisted ideas that are real to me.
Ideas of what could be.

I get consumed by these powerful thoughts,
Building up like a brick wall.
Waiting to crumble and triumph over me.
I wish these thoughts could leave someway, somehow.

But I guess I’m just afraid.
Afraid of what could be.
Maybe someday I will overpower these thoughts?
Only to be replaced with new horrifying,
Manipulating images.

Maybe I should stay in bed,
Stop questioning what could be,
And hope tomorrow will be better, easier, brighter.