Rats

There are rats in the rooms of my soul.
They gnaw at the walls and shred the floorboards with their claws.
They nest in my piles of discontent
And stir up the dust on long empty shelves.
They chase the sunlight away
And grate upon the silence of serenity with their jagged teeth.
They echo their horrid cries in the dead of the night
And keep me awake with fear.
Oh, how I hate them!
If only they would leave
And let me be!
Yet
I cannot let them.