I have made a home,
a nest deep in the hollow of my own sadness,
a space so vast it could be considered a black hole,
infinitely large and consuming all that surrounds it.

I am settled beneath my own ribcage,
in the pit of my stomach where that dead feeling resignates from,
caught with chains and locked with a padlock but my eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness of this internal prison,
when I try to look out, to seek escape, to find freedom,
the light hurts my eyes and I shrink back, retreat into what I know,
my comfort zone,
the void inside me that I like to call home.