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Celestia Jul 2020
Her brain is always overcrowded.
Thoughts and dreams and half-written poems have taken over her mind.
Her soul is made of the ramblings of a nearly mad wanderer who has been confined for too long.
Questions and doubts and anxieties plague each of her waking moments.
Stress and worries ruin the rest.
Her mind is filled with chaos and her heart with mayhem, and she would trade both for a chance to breathe freely.
My thoughts don't listen to me. I am a prisoner in my own mind. I am lost in a world of my own making. But I will look in the mirror and remind myself that I will make it.
Yours,
Celestia.
Cardboard-Jones May 2020
They say the truth shall set you free.
Truth is a matter of perspective.
I know the picture you see.
I don’t agree.
I know you are misinformed
And the truth will release you from ignorance.
The truth will set you straight.
The truth will enlighten you.
But that truth is just my truth.
I know what my truth can do to you.
I know it will rumble your foundation.
Change your picture.
But I don’t share my truth.
I’m afraid.
I’m afraid it will hurt you.
I know you are not ready.
And I care about you.
So I lie.
And we are both prisoners.
Lexi May 2020
"Behind   the   doors   of   Silence
I'm   the    tree    that's    never   Grown
I'm    the    prisoner    of   your    Pauses
I'm    the    ball    that's    never     Thrown
The   captive   of   your    Caution
There   is    ice     between    my    Teeth
I've    wandered    down    the    twisted     Way
Where    all     the     fences     Meet."
hiba sajid Apr 2020
I'll walk away from this land,
Where nothing good ever happens.

When the sun shines in pride,
I see anger bloom all around.

When the wind laughs,
It takes away my joy.

Heavy rain of silence,
Left to drown me in remorse.

Chains of burden,
hinder me from leaving this land.

I feel dead and drained from unearthing  escape routes,
Perhaps my afterlife will be more promising.


Drifting off into a day dream,
Appears to be my only escape,
Where I walk away from this land,
Where nothing good ever happens.
No matter what grief or depression you are going through, it's not the end of the world. You will come out of it.
Andrew Layman Apr 2020
Let the rusted shackles remain
all the tread-marks and the bruises
to remind me in this life,
that I was once a prisoner
of my own habits.

Show the bars were fashioned
from the idleness
of my own two hands,
which bestowed upon me the title
of lecherous warden.
LET THIS BE A LESSON, Copyright © 2020 Andrew Layman
All Rights Reserved.
Zack Ripley Feb 2020
The air should be light.
Filled with joy, not fright,
On this cold winter night.
And for most, it is.
the difference between
them and me, you see,
Is that they are not prisoners
Of their minds. They are free.
I was sentenced to this life alone
Without a home to call my own,
After I served my country.
Oh, what a world I was shown.
Don't misunderstand. I had a good life.
I lived the American dream,
Complete with a house, a dog, a beautiful wife.
But once I signed up for another tour,
Her heart couldn't take it anymore.
She walked out the door.
When I came back, I was too embarrassed to ask for help.
So that's how I got here,
Feeling like I only have
myself to blame.
But even as I join my fellow outcasts,
Forgotten, and unloved,
I smile with pride
Knowing I was brave enough to play the game.
ryn Mar 2020
I’ve
built
a cage
around
my
heart.

Not
to keep
you out,

but
to keep
you in.
Grey Mar 2020
I raise my gaze toward the pale blue sky,
staring out my window as I watch the world go by.
Pale cheek pressed against a ****** hand,
I daydream of travelling across unknown lands.
Fantasy worlds and magic forests tug at the back of my mind,
things that only characters in books could ever really find.
But always stuck in my room, nothing around,
how can I truly know what wonders abound?
To a prisoner, fiction is being free --
something that I know I never will be.
My frail fingers trace the words engraved on the window's wood --
"Your mind will let you be what no one else ever could."
Except how can it really let me live
if life is a present that no one will give?
3/2020
Trying something new :) This one kind of reminds me of Rapunzel, though it was partially inspired by the lockdown.
Nabeelah Mar 2020
The reflection at birth was exotic.
Over the years
one has become colour blind.
A prisoner...
A prisoner of losing one's self in a monochromatic world.
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