Haunted
I wear blinders of my own making,
molded in my childhood years,
too many frightful things to see,
my cries fell on deaf ears.
What I saw, I didn't see,
ignore it, it's not real,
tell and face their ridicule,
best learn to keep lips sealed.
Long gone now are those childhood days,
when blinders shielded me,
and yet, and yet, I wear them still,
afraid of what I'll see.
My childhood nights were torture,
I lay sleepless in my bed
and watched the closet doorknob turn,
my stomach clenched in dread.
The liquid darkness across the room
was blacker than the night,
its form was vaguely canine,
a demonic, chilling sight.
"Now I lay me down to sleep"
was not my childhood prayer,
I prayed for them to leave me be,
my nights were fraught with terror.
I'd waken, feel them in the room,
feel drafts as they moved by,
watched objects move all by themselves,
held still and clenched my eyes.
I prayed they wouldn't notice me,
but then I'd feel them stare,
I'd hold my breath and lie real still,
but they knew I was aware.
For those of you who doubt me,
I envy your naivete,
for I have seen the hounds of hell
and am frightened to this day.
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