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.
