Haunted Mansion

My mind is like a haunted mansion.

It's beautiful

and big,

decorated elegantly.

 

But there's a hidden mystery.

There are unwanted guests,

who come and go as they please.

 

They haunt me, walking around

and whispering.

Their dark shadows creep

through the walls,

they don't need permission to come,

they just do. 

 

 

On any day. 
At any hour. 
At any place. 

 

They can walk from room to room and

wreck

each one's beauty.

Even if I were to try

and put the house up for sale,

no one would take it.

I can't leave it,

because

it's

my

home.

 

 

Every time I try

to run away,

no matter where I go,

I step into the lobby

time and time again.

 

 

Some days are good, and

on those days

I cherish my lovely furnished home.

 

 

But,

other days

aren't good.

And it is in those moments

that I want to go

to the very top floor

and jump

out

a

window. 

 

To scream and not be heard. 

 

To fall and smile at my only victory. 

 

To feel the wind rush around me

and create a sense of safety. 

 

To crash and know it hurts less

than life did for me. 

 

To know everything is finally over.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741