The captive.
My mind is a captive, enslaved
Imprisoned, held in shackles
As fear rules it with and iron fist.
My mind is a captive weakened and conquered by past traumas,
The love which came to be an art of war,
The enemy has won.
The torture chamber.
My mind is a torture chamber,
My heart is a chamber of broken pieces,
Where I am coerced to incessantly replay
The past, hark back to my glory days
Tormented by doubts and worries about my future,
The dawn of whether I'll ever love again,
Mocked for my weaknesses,
My cowardice to love someone.
For I dare not fight back
But have someone from God's hands.
Billian writes.
