Ghost Story

As we sat around the campfire
people exchanged scary stories
about the ghosts and ghouls
that they thought they had seen
and the supernatural events
in their lives.

I have no stories about ghosts.
That is not what scares me.

Here is what I would have liked to have said:
Would you like to hear a scary story?
I can tell you one.

It was a dark and stormy life
and I stood,
shirtless and 16
in front of the mirror
with a bottle full of pills.
Wondering how much it would take to do it
Wondering if it would hurt too much
Wondering what one wears to a suicide.

Here's a scary story
about a young boy
who is convinced things are as bad as they can get
yet sure they'll only get worse

Here's a place that's haunted:
a mental hospital,
where that young boy stays
because he's frightened of himself
because he's not sure he'll be safe if he isn't watched.

Here's a nightmare
worse than you can imagine:
waking up with a raw, rubbing feeling.
A memory in the pit of my stomach
a reminder of how bad it used to be
a hint that if my balance were to falter
it will all come tumbling down.

This is my scary story.
This is what I would have liked to have said.

But of course,
I could not,
for if I said these things
everybody would think I was crazy.

So I returned to listening
to their spooky tales
of flying objects,
glowing images,
and haunted mansions.

People prefer their ghosts to be dead.