We stare from the corners,
Watching as she drags her bags in.
She’s been away for so long.
Six months if we remember well.
She thinks she’s healed.
Sane, if you will.
Little does she know that we wait.
Tidying the room does little for her.
The dust remains.
Cobwebs made of steel,
Wounds gotten from hate.
Terrible scars, etched into these walls.
Clean all you want, we reign supreme.
We will haunt her,
Just wait for her to settle down,
Let the silence fill her soul,
Let the night draw nigh.
Those dreams seemingly forgotten, we will stir up.
Burying talons in her head,
Conjuring hate, spite and fear.
We will laugh and play, dancing about merrily.
We will hover and produce spawn.
We will destroy what’s been reborn.
We are her memories.
We will never let go.
We own this room.
What happens here stays here.
Moons may wax and wane,
But forever we will stay,
Her personal demons,
We are Echiche.