A ghost in my room

There's a ghost in my room it sits still in the corner it smells if death and it smells of doom it doesn't speak, doesn't move the ghost in my room the ghost comes few times a week sometimes for hours sometimes for days but no matter how many hours or days it always leaves it never stays the ghost likes to take different forms it visits as pictures as words as storms it's whatever makes me weak the ghost can be anything regret, pain, self critique but the wost thing the ghost can be is an empty void staring at me sucking the air, the emotions, the space thw ghost is a mirror me staring at my own face there's a ghost in my room.