Therapy Bits

In shadows deep where whispers creep,

A haunting fear begins to seep,

Through hollow halls of night’s embrace,

Where every sound leaves naught but trace.

The clock strikes twelve, the chill descends,

As sanity twists, and reason bends,

A wretched thought, a fleeting glance,

The specter of a fateful dance.

With every step on creaking floor,

A voice within cries ever more,

“Beware the fate, the wicked seam,

Where flesh may tear and bone may dream.”

The razor’s edge, the serrated knife,

Each phantom gash, a stolen life,

A shudder runs through sinew and skin,

Of what lurks close, beneath the din.

In nightmares woven, shadows leer,

A symphony composed of fear,

Limbs torn asunder, a shattered whole,

Echoes of anguish that seize the soul.

Every heartbeat a ticking clue,

That somewhere whispers, “This might be you,”

In the dark corners where horrors toy,

With the fragments of flesh, of girl and boy.

But hold your breath and steel your mind,

For in the murk, the truth we’ll find,

That fear may haunt, but cannot claim,

The spirit whole, unbound by shame.

So tread with caution, yet dance with glee,

For dismemberment lives, but never shall be,

A mere illusion, a macabre jest,

For fear is a guest, but courage is best.

Fear of Dismemberment – Experience Writing