I have no voice, the shell envelopes me such that not even a whisper escapes
the air, so still, the dust hangs suspended within, stagnant and unmoving
these bindings they hold me in a cruel embrace, forcing me to watch my ambitions defaced
this pressure on my skin, my pores are pressed in and my heart is filled with loathing
I feel as if covered in slime, it flows thickly as a souls crime, guiltily placed as with spoiled food do I dine
How can I create and sing as the songbird does when the very air will not go through my lungs
I am choking, gasping grasping for the air of my creativities melody
this cage is of my own creation, that so many ideas like fleeting birds would fly through the sound of their wing beats in the multitudes
And yet not one would deign to perch on my bare shoulder, that I may feel the prick of its claws, that the blood of my mind would flow down my back and alleviate this pressure
Let me let go of inhibition through the parting may be like that of a mother with her newborn child
The tearing pain sublime only in its intensity
I would have my minds blood flow freely until the earth is soaked with it
That it may become the fertilizer for new growth.
Come then with that blade of discomfort, allow it to bite into my skin for the agony I am in now stranded.
Would envelope the pain of the blade cutting away all that bars my way, that I may be washed again and born anew