Darkness,
I am confined again,
lost in between
the tight spaces
of my own old pretensions,
rules, laws.

I have no pretenses.
I know that it was I
who cast this wrought iron,
I who twisted the cruel key,
I who signed my fate.

It is safer here
in this tiny steel world
I have created for myself.
There is no you,
there is only me,
a twisted version,
skewed out of love,
out of reality,
distorted through fear,
perverted by hate,
self-directed, self-received.

Now I only have to worry
about myself,
my reactions.
And yet I am still
seeking your approval,
hoping you will see me,
weak and chained,
hoping you will say,
"Good girl! What self-control!
Look at how she tortures herself!
Look at how she gives herself
what she deserves!"

My burning hands
encircle cold, icy metal.
I am afraid the difference
will make them sear.
My eyes look out,
trying to see the jury,
trying to see the judge,
but they are all within the cell,
alone with me.

I yearn for freedom,
but it is hard to hope
after becoming so accustomed
to the chains.
The taste of spring air 
grows stale in my mouth.
The light fades slowly.

Someday
I will save me
from my prison,
from myself.