At The Door

Curled up in the corner

in dead of the night.

Afraid of darkness

and praying for light.

 

Eyes peer from the ceiling.

Hands reach from the floor.

Hearts beat from the walls

and he stands at the door.

 

No chemical shields me.

No masquerade hides.

The sweat of my body,

the fear in my eyes.

 

He’s pounding and pounding

and growing in strength.

He’s growing in hunger,

and looking for prey.

 

He whispers to call me

from deep in my mind.

With lies and with luring

each weakness he finds.

 

But I know what he wants

yes, I know where it leads.

I’ve scars to remind me

of all the past deeds.

 

But the door he can’t open

and that’s why he calls.

So I’m curled in the corner…

afraid that I’ll fall.