Blessed Sins

untouchably far away

•{ We are all living in our own prisons; it's called our minds. }•

When will I be able to see the mundane blue skies, swarming with buzzing bees and dust from the flowers? Will I ever witness the sun rising, hitting the trees with a golden beauty no one could recreate in a painting? Or am I stuck here, away from my small joys, shackled to my bedframe, crying out to the lord to free me from my mental prison?

My voice grows hoarse with every sob I utter, sounding like footsteps upon gravel as I weep for someone to look up from their screens and see me suffering. I beg for help, screaming out to my lover's lover, begging for them to help me, to break me free from this cell covered in my viscous blood and bile. But alas, no one looks up at me to see my bloody wrists, to see my swollen eyes, to see my sweaty body squirming in my bed, working my shackles against my callused skin. Perhaps my cries were to subtle to be noticed by a fellow sufferer, as they are cought up in their far more important matters. Perhaps, I am just being a dramatic imbecile, seeking attention to validate my useless opinions and beliefs, crying out not because I am in pain, but because I am a selfishly repulsing creature, wanting everything to be about me and my irrelevant pains.

The warmth of a lover's embrace, filled with love seems so far from this prison.  The subtle pressure of their heart against mine, fluttering with nervousness and love. It is so far from me in this cell. But I must hold out hope for my prince-charming to save me from my own little prison in my brain. Maybe someday I will see the deer in the woods, eating berries while nursing their kin. Maybe someday I will see the dazzling stars in the sky, sparkling in the reflection of my pupils, filling me with hope and joy. Maybe someday I will escape my mind and run so far away, it is nothing but a speck in the distance.

Or maybe someday I will find a way to kill myself.