The Haunting
I sleep and I dream of them,
Of the monsters that haunt me.
I wake and they are with me,
The same monsters.
They don't have faces or names
And still I tremble.
They are always near,
but out of reach.
They are never gone,
Yet forever unseen.
They talk to me.
Constantly.
So when I asked them
Who they were,
They told me willingly,
Gleaming at my dread.
And I whished they never told me
I whished I never asked
About the monsters in my head
















