floating for 21 years

When i was younger i wasnt scared of ghosts

i loved ouija boards

and haunted houses just feel like play

its toxic trait 

but i just think im invincible 

a clueless eight-year-old

but when i turned twenty-one, i saw them

they werent people. they were shadows

of who ive been before,

of past regretted memories,

of secrets i want to die

but they keep coming from the grave

and marching to my house.

didnt bother knocking on the door

and now im here inside my closet

under my bed

besides my parents,

sleeping where my youthful ghosts 

were supposed to be

because the real ones

those from me

are lying on my mattress 

I cannot breathe.

There isnt space

Do not call the exorcists 

they cannot do a thing

whats haunted is inside me 

not with blankets 

and bloody wounded 

but alive freely moving

walking alongside heartbeats

Speaking a thousand voices

Never resting. 

The tombstone has my name.

So tell me how do you leave fear

how do you become brave in this unholy frame 

how do you bury the skeletons in your pocket

Miniscule yet present on every street 

Keeping you awake

even if you've already slept. 

Oh i have grown ever since

my ghosts no difference

people around me play in haunted houses

amazed by strangely intricate cobwebs 

but i just think im invisible,

Maybe cursed 

still an eight-year-old.