I pushed out all of the light, made it go away, thinking that the light did me wrong. Sitting in the corner of the cold, dark prison, I enjoy the tears protruding from my eyes, my only release from the anger, hurt and sadness.
Why am I here, what did I do?
I’m offered the keys to leave, two keys, but I don’t want them, don’t want to get out, the prison has become me, I’ve slowly begun to convince myself that it is all that exists, and I can’t push myself over the cliff face of the flat world.
Others watch from outside my prison, crying for me, begging me to take their key, but their keys don’t fit the lock, only two do, and I don’t want to leave.
In time, the release doesn’t work any longer, I need something more, I know what I should do. I hold the knife in my shaky hand, I want to do it, but I don’t want that key, the one I know fits the lock, the one that ends everything…because that key doesn’t grant me my freedom.
The others come again, begging me to use their keys, but again, I know they don’t work. They grab the other key, the one I hadn’t reached for, and unlock the door, they grab me and pull me from my prison, and I half-heartedly resist, not sure what I want anymore.
They take me to the warden, the gatekeeper of the prison, and she looks me over with a heavy heart. She watches me out, gives me hope and rehabilitation. And ever since, the prison lurks just beneath my consciousness, threatening to take me back into its depths at any moment.
Comments about this poem (Prison by ally gunther )
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