WHY IS MY POETRY LITTERED WITH DOOM

There is a space behind your face,
Above where you put food.
Many things can leave that place,
Depending on your mood.

It is this space behind your face,
That operates your pen.
It brings to life this simple tool,
There's just no telling when.

A special place behind your face,
Where memories reside.
You can't delete the saddest things,
Like all the times you cried.

A secret place behind your face,
Where bad things tend to hide.
It's hard to cover up those things,
Believe me I have tried.

There must be space behind this face,
I constantly hear voices.
I wish they would shut up for good,
They've helped me make bad choices.

Within this space behind your face,
The darkness tends to loom,
The lights you shine won't kill this thing,
The darkness will resume.

I hate this space under my face,
That keeps me up at night.
Even if I get to sleep,
It wakes me with a fright.

You might say that there is no space,
Like this in your head.
It's just you havn't found it yet,
Deny not what I've said.

JoN. 28-Sep-2007.