I felt the sun on my skin,
the warming,
yet stinging sensation is left.
I was staring
outside my window
from the corner of my bed,
trying to block
out the yelling from the otherside of the door with
my cries.

That door,
That bolted door,
was the difference
between the worlds of
safety,
solitude,
silence
and relaxation,
which I lay in fright of the other side.

That side which holds
the anger,
fear,
the animals that will tear each others throats if willing.
I fear leaving my world and
entering that world of reality.
I've been pushed to this corner
by people who I thought  where standing by my side,
who told me they loved me
and the ones that left me standing on the edge of the cliff of life.

Trying so hard to push forward
against the concrete wall
that they had built against me. Scarping and tearing my flesh
against this wall,
I finally,
gave up.
I had not gave up my life,
but instead I gave up the feelings
that basic humans need,
yet was forced to keep the ones
that others will gladly give away.
The pain,
fear,
anxiety,
paranoia
and sadness.

I no longer have the sense of joy for the things I have,
but the sense of jealously of what others have,
love.
No longer the feeling of happiness, but I fake it,
to seem normal to the
human eye.
No longer the feeling of excitement of being with others,
but the fear of what they will do,
what they could do and
the harsh breathing which has been coming from
me.

All of these experiences
lay behind
the door,
if you listen.
carefully.
you can hear it.
amongst the yelling.
scratching,
its claws against
the bolted door,
begging
to come in
or
for me to exit,
To be torn to pieces
by the animals that reside there.

Fearing that I will soon lose
my sanity,
I Curl up against the corner
of my enclosed,
single window room.
where  I hold my ears within
the clasp of my palms,
where my fingers are
tangled within the strands of my hair, where I feel the moist drop and streams run down my face.

As I stare out side the window
to the sky as a flock flies by,
and where i beg
to join them,
but that's impossible,
the lost of some humanity
no longer grants me the right to fly.

within the view of my sight
i glimpse at the scars
that lay flat against my skin,
each one representing a day
where i suffered and wanted to be gone,
but also another day that i had
survived.
These scars give me some encouragement
to survive
to live another day
because one day it will happen,
where i will leave my world
and break down
the bolted door.
Where i can
finally stand up
strong
and fight against the wall,
to push through and live,
to gain  back the emotions
i have once lost.
My hands grasps
tighter
against my head,
curled my body
closer
to the wall,
as a eerie voice
leaked
through the door
speaking my name

I try to ignore it and
whisper to myself
"One day, just one more day then i'll be safe".