The Killer Is Already Inside The House Poem by Raj Dronamraju

There must be 100 ways to leave it, work through it, not to let it get to you
Porcupine dreadnought memory
To cut it loose is to cut away part of yourself

Wishful thinking that the threat is external
But self-harm hugs you tightly
There is no letting go

A cry for help and the reply is your voice mocking you back
Trace the call but the call comes from inside the house

Already fumbling with the lock
Weight distributed evenly so as not to break the spirit
Self is hiding in the upstairs closet