A PRISONER OF THE MIND

A tormenting past always leaves a signature trace, striking in the same place. The crater's hollowness and everlasting permanence Could not possibly conceal all this damage. Many gawk at it, but never see beyond the hideous wreckage. The wretchedness trailing after each thought is as overwhelming as dragging chains, Clanking with eerie echoes that reverberate throughout the house. So neglected, its worn-out wallpaper is all that remains. So full of woes, not even ghosts rouse. There is always this heavy pressure that any effort feels like being in a tangled maze. So overwhelming, I foolishly walk through the haze, Trying to find a non-existent key that will not yield, That will not open a door meant to be sealed. What if it had been there for me to push it open all along? Perhaps out there awaits a garden of flowers, While I am here, withering and befriending my nightmares. But what if, past the threshold, there is a burning hell made where I truly belong? Trying to blow away the cobwebs, only dust remains to cloud my mind. Polluted oxygen is the only nourishment my lungs find. Then I feel the spiders crawl over me again, Forcing a retreat back to my brain.