Phantoms control my life, they dictate every second of my existence. Ghoulish images and banshee screams from people no longer apart of my everyday spread fear through my mind, trapping me within a mental tomb.

I’m restricted, chained by venomous remarks from those I trusted—people meant to protect me—my betrayers. Thrown to nightmares by a nurturing hand of blacken ash. There is no direction for me. . . not anymore. No self-control or steady rudder, how do you begin to control chaos?

How do you wrangle the wild mares of destruction, or stop an infection seeded in the first stages of mental development? Phantoms control my life, they dictate every second of my existence. Ghoulish images and banshee screams from people no longer apart of my everyday spread fear through my mind, trapping me within a mental tomb.

How does a person, conditioned over generations, break free of their own mind—escape torment when the abuser is still there, a phantom whispering in the hallows of the mind. Phantoms control my life, they dictate every second of my existence. Ghoulish images and banshee screams from people no longer apart of my everyday spread fear through my mind, trapping me within a mental tomb.

Liberation is not in my future because I’m dictated by the past, influenced by demons who were never mine but handed down from parent to child. I am not in control, because you can not control anarchy of the soul. Phantoms control my life, they dictate every second of my existence. Ghoulish images and banshee screams from people no longer apart of my everyday spread fear through my mind, trapping me within a mental tomb.

© J.N. Sheats