These Demons (Do you know what it's like)
Do you know what it's like to sit on the floor in the corner of your room, knees to your chest; sobbing and screaming and rocking back and forth in terror because there is a devil cat on you, attacking you, and there are dementors flying around your room; lurking on your ceiling. And there's a man's grinning face peaking in the crack of your door.
But really there's no one there. It's all in your head, they aren't real.
Except they are real, these demons. They're in your head but they're as real as anything, and you see them and you hear them and you feel them and you smell them. I don't know what those demons are. I don't know whether I even believe in demons. But I know these are real.
And it's not all the time either. Once in a while. A couple times a month, and I've only seen them about four or five times, but it's already too many times, it was the first time.
And it's come to the point where I'm scared it's going to start up every night anytime soon. Because I can feel it in my bones and I hear them in my mind, just there on the edges, waiting to attack at any moment.
I feel them coming.
And I wait so long, stay up so late, go to my room at night reluctant. And I leave that night light on because I'm on guard stiff, expecting them any second.
But they torture me just as much from the corners of my mind, when they aren't even here.
Because just the thought of them coming sends me over the edge. And they know it. They haven't been here in a long time, yet they've been here all along.
Other things come sometimes. Their cousins, their sisters and brothers and mothers and daughters and sons. With crazy faces and heads that turn all the way around and fingers rotten green that clutch my covers as I try to think them away.
Because it's all in my head, right?
But really there's no one there. It's all in your head, they aren't real.
Except they are real, these demons. They're in your head but they're as real as anything, and you see them and you hear them and you feel them and you smell them. I don't know what those demons are. I don't know whether I even believe in demons. But I know these are real.
And it's not all the time either. Once in a while. A couple times a month, and I've only seen them about four or five times, but it's already too many times, it was the first time.
And it's come to the point where I'm scared it's going to start up every night anytime soon. Because I can feel it in my bones and I hear them in my mind, just there on the edges, waiting to attack at any moment.
I feel them coming.
And I wait so long, stay up so late, go to my room at night reluctant. And I leave that night light on because I'm on guard stiff, expecting them any second.
But they torture me just as much from the corners of my mind, when they aren't even here.
Because just the thought of them coming sends me over the edge. And they know it. They haven't been here in a long time, yet they've been here all along.
Other things come sometimes. Their cousins, their sisters and brothers and mothers and daughters and sons. With crazy faces and heads that turn all the way around and fingers rotten green that clutch my covers as I try to think them away.
Because it's all in my head, right?