Sense Sonnet - Chiller

 Demonized

The hands of hell are ever near,

Gouging access into my head,

And filling up my brain with fear,

Twisting me into living dead.

My flesh and bone and blood of life

Shows and seems well to watchers be,

But all inside my skull is strife

That eats away inside of me.

Whatever soul is left to save,

I no longer do have the will

To escape from my mental grave.

I long for real death to fulfill.

So many demons' fingers find

Success scratching into my mind.