Haunted (poetry + art)

Why bother with words? All been said before;
Silence speaks volumes with deafening roar.

My mind grows still, but I feel you creeping,
lingering there, roaming while I'm sleeping.

I could give lectures about letting go,
but it never changes how I feel though.

Not the first specter in this haunted house,
in time they all grow quiet as a mouse.

One thing has changed, of this I have no doubt,
the door's unlocked, you can show yourself out.