Oh how I tremble,
Beneath my blanket cocoon.
Sitting in the dark,
Senses heightened to the point where figments of my imagination become reality.
If only it was like when I was little,
Where my imagination took me to far away lands,
With castles and adventures.
Before paranoia gripped my thoughts,
Sending that once beautiful imagination of mine into darkness.
Monsters roam my room,
My blanket the only separation from them and me.
The only thing that keeps me from witnessing their disfigured bodies weaving in and out of shadows.
The thoughts that plague my mind as they prance across my room.
And I tremble.
Because that's all I can do.
Is sit,
Attempt to breathe normally,
Attempt to rationalize everything,
And tremble.
Tears don't flow,
They dried up long ago.
All that's left is a trembling shell,
Terrified of what the world holds.
