Ghosts--A Poem I Wrote While Feeling Pensive

This is a poem I wrote this morning. It's kind of adapted from a different poem I wrote a few months ago, called "Painted Faces". So...yes. It doesn't rhyme, but then again, poems don't have to. Comments are welcome.
Did I base it on myself? I'll let you judge.
~ ~ ~
GhostsA train rumbles by
as I lie
wide-awake and wide-eyed
in the darkness.
Fear has
a strong hold on my mind.
Thoughts of
painted faces leering out at me
from the shadows;
the glint of a silver knife;
the sheen of ruby-scarlet blood;
tall, thin, faceless creatures peering
through my window, or
hiding away in my closet.
The ghosts of my past mistakes
The ghosts of all the friends I've failed
The ghosts of all the people I've wronged...
They haunt my dreams,
and they stalk my every step.
I find myself wondering,
if these nightmarish creatures
come to life,
can I find the strength
to scream?
Can I find the willingness
to resist?
Do I even want to?