There are skeletons in my closet
And monsters under my bed.
My ears are ringing,
with threats, unsaid.

Voices whisper,
but never caress
my body, no.
My mind they adress.

A thought that always
grinds with frustration.
Is this all real?
     or imagination?

There are skeletons in my closet
And monsters under my bed
But none of them compare
to this demon in my head.