This poem is all over the place.

Vultures, my demons, these ugly vile creatures.
Swarming, gathering.
They join and surround.
I dare not look around.
Pay them no attention.
But I hear them, their sneering and jeering.
One by one they will close in and pick me apart.
They want my soul, they need my heart.
To become a hole, a shell of my former self.
Cracked, chipped, battered and bruised.
Unloved and abused.
Dare not fight for they sense hope.
In for the kill.
The sensation, the thrill
Make it fast! I beg and plead.
No mercy, no sympathy.
Oh, the feeling.
I'm suffocating. Fading.
Choking me with my insecurities.
They release me, but I know not to feel relief as they retreat and look on with nasty, toothy grins.
They hiss farewell and welcome me to my own version of hell.