Each clown that jumps
From a skeleton riddled closet
Scares the crap out of me.
My life has the perfect cover
Like a book of fairytales,
But riddled with Sam Raimi's imaginative creations.
I feel fear at every corner I turn,
Waiting for their inevitable attack.
One day could be a good day,
The next I will wake screaming,
Wild hands around my neck
Choking that likeable side of me
-If I have one-
Until it falls dead on the floor.
I am my own worst enemy.
My imagination takes control every time I look in the mirror.
It grins sadistically and says,
You're fucked now!