Day: Jan 9, 2021

Scratches on my door, figures by my bed,

White faces in the windowpane.

I know something horrid is approaching.

The stars blink wily as ghouls refrain.

Cuts appear all over my tired body,

They ooze, they burn like wildfire.

But I can’t leave this feeling alone

With its spooks, too dark and dire.

Even paper bruises my skin these days,

I smear the blood all over.

The void behind my forehead widens

Engulfing the room, bursting the controller.

Yet I stay with the rising discomfort,

The curtain is ready for the last show.        

The pure panic in my gaze spirals

As the mirror yells torturously:

“Virago!”