Ghost Home

I'm still just a child
Even though I tell myself otherwise

 

My family used to live

Across town in this small decrepit house

And back then
My old room was white

With angels on the walls
And urine stained underwear
Piling up underneath my bed

 

When I would go to sleep at night

I would see these nameless red blobs

And the longer I watched them
The closer they would get to me
And when I screamed for mommy and daddy

They turned on the light
And the red masses were gone

 

As I got a bit older

I was still in that same old house

And I had night lights in my room

But the glowing plug-ins

Only shone their light

On the black thing underneath my dresser

Because I had grown out of the red blobs
And this dark thing took its place

 

It would whisper all night long
And I didn't want to look at it

But I was scared

That it would crawl out from under there
And touch me if I turned my back to it

So I chose to look at its small eyes and big hands

And I would wet the bed nearly every night

When I heard it rustling underneath the dresser

 

The next morning I would hide my sheets
And urine-stained underwear
And stuff anything and everything underneath that dresser

Until there was no room left for the thing

 

My family moved across town
And built a nice house with cathedral ceilings

And much to my relief

The black thing under my dresser
Stayed at the old yellow house
On Royal Court Street

 

I'm a little older now
Looking into colleges and medical programs

And shaping what should be my future

But even through all of these adult things
I am still a child in a room filled with angels

Staring that black thing in its eyes
Letting my own yellow-tinted fear
Soak through my pants and onto the sheets

 

I know that kids make up stories

Because kids can be kids
But that dark thing under my old dresser

Wasn't some prepubescent cry for attention
Or an imaginary friend

 

It was a memory that's still present in my mind
And I'm not sure if that black thing
Came from the house or from me
But it was there and so was I

And now there's a different black thing

Locking eyes with me and refusing to look away

And its name is depression

Because I'm still that child
Even though I tell myself otherwise