They came again last night.
The demons.
They morph into everything
We’ve ever been afraid of
And everything
We still are.
The ones that haunt and scream and wail
Until we listen to them.
And hear
Our faults
And remember
Our fears
Until everything gets cold and numb.
And no matter how many people are around,
We still know
We’re hopelessly alone.

Ghastly beings, those demons.
They haunt the halls of our subconscious;
They guard the doors
With the keys still in the locks
Covered with cobwebs
Because we dare not venture
Those again.
And every once in a while
Those demons come back
At one or two or three a.m.
To remind us
Those doors
Are still there.