I was alone and angry.
I had the perfect life before things came crumbling down.
Happy days spent playing outside in the grass.
Tainted by the blood and tears of now.
Spending hours alone trapped in my mind.
Sure, I had people suffering through it with me.
But I was stuck, coping alone.
I should let it go because it's all over.
But it isn't really over, is it?
I can still here their voices.
I can still see the pain.
I still have dreams about it.
The times I sat alone and suffered in silence.
The times I questioned my sanity.
The times that I stored my feelings away.
I still often find myself trapped in my own head.
Wondering if I did one little thing different.
Would I still have my old life.
Even after the countless coping mechanisms.
Even after the therapy.
Even after the reassurance.
I still feel trapped in the mind.