I had to write this, forgive me if it seems a little much.
I do not fear the dark;
I fear what the dark hides.
When the sun sets,
And I lay down my head,
Oh, what thoughts I think!
Visions of death and destruction,
Of entire worlds laid bare.
Or more personal reflection;
Of siblings harmed, of oppressors.
And of course, what I would do to those tormenters.
When night falls, all of the monsters come out to play.
I am tortured by this!
I worry every night about things,
Events that are so improbable,
They may as well be impossible.
And yet I lay there, and I think.
My gift and my curse,
My mind is racing at all times.
By why, why do I feel this way?
This despair, this depression
That only occurs between 8 and 8,
What is wrong with me?
I cannot stop this,
Ever hurting myself with a thousand small cuts.
It is in bed I cry, because my cat died.
It is in bed I protect my family from imaginary foes.
It is in bed I die a thousand deaths,
Each more futile than the last.
It is at night I contemplate nothingness
The Void itself,
Only to scare myself.
It is true;
When I stare into that dark abyss,
It also stares back at me.
Make it stop!
No longer can I defeat my horrors
Through force of will.
They seep through the cracks in my armor,
Gaining holds on my heart
And the more emotional I get,
The worse it becomes.
When I was cold, logical
I could ignore it;
I could ignore the call of the damned.
But now I am open, flowing with feelings
And I cannot shut that door.
How can I live with this?
Truly, I do not fear the dark;
I fear what hides in my mind.