You hold your body
like a Bastille
and you never let me in
love becomes an issue
with time you never spend
I wait in the watchtower
seeking a somber reprieve
despite the chains
and noise of the dungeon below me
I know that I don't want to stay
but find that I can never leave.

Welcome to my broken home,
There's nobody here I'm all alone.

The walls they scream of things once said,
They constantly echo in my head.

The door in front it never closes as people never stay,
The hatred and guilt always drives them away.

So welcome to my broken home I don't have anything to offer you,
No love, no face I'm out of place and there's not much I can do.

I sit in here and do nothing at all,
But stare at these empty walls.

It portrays the life of hurt and hate,
My destiny, my anguish, my solitaire fate.

It's like a projection screen playing a never ending show,
It's like it's in slow motion, so painfully slow.

So run now from my broken home, keep the door open as you leave,
Because being trapped in here I still need air to breathe.

Tell now about my broken home of all things heard and said,
Because even as a woman that house still lives in my head.

That little girl trapped inside, well that little girl is me,
Even though I'm older now the horrible thoughts won't me be.

You win.
You draw me in.
I'm trapped again
inside this Heavenly Hell.
A lovely, torturous place
where visions of what was
and what might be
dangle like hooks
that pierce my heart,
A solitary utopia,
where stained glass dreams
slosh throughout
my whimsical mind.
I enjoy
the ******* burning
of the sensual fire
that destroys me
in the most magical way
until I
once again
fall from your grace.

Anxiety.

It's human nature, you say.
It's normal, you say.
Everyone has it, you say.
Get over it, you say.

But you don't listen.
You don't hear it screaming at me at night.
You don't feel my chest exploding throughout the day.
You don't see the tears in my eyes from the constant torture.
You don't know.

My darkest demon is a whispering ache & pain that something is wrong.
That I'm going to die.
& one day I will.

She was beautiful, you'll say.
She was too young, you'll say.
No one even knew she was suffering, you'll say.

So listen. Listen close. Not everyone fights a demon that is easy to see--easy to understand. Don't judge another person's fears, because they aren't irrational; they matter. It's real. & it's alive.