This poem came out of the October 2-3, 2012 Poetry Fishbowl.  It was inspired by prompts from westrider, ellenmillion (see her picture "Strange Portrait"), and DW user aoifes_aisle.

They are because we are.
They are what we make of them,
becoming our beliefs into being.

They have been called many things:
demons, haunts, archetypes,
hallucinations.

It is easier for them to hunt
when nobody thinks they are real,
for then their prey is defenseless.

It does not matter what the conscious
mind thinks that it believes.
The subconscious is what shapes reality.

These are the demons we create
and can banish only by facing them,
for they cannot bear the sound of their own names.

Denial is a demon in soft white cloth
wearing a calm pleasant face as a mask,
all smooth skin and sparkling eyes.

But there are horns above the shaggy hair,
and the mask hides horrors, for there is
bone beneath the face and red muscle at the throat.

Denial is a wicked emotion, a potent demon --
the ladylord of suicide and addiction and sexual abuse,
drawing power from all evils that go unspoken.

Speak, then.
Your words are your power.
They will turn the wind to freedom in your teeth.

Come, speak --
tear away the mask
and deal with the bones of the truth.

Denial is a demon of shadows and dust.
Once the mask is gone, what remains
is impotent.