This poem may be interpreted which ever way you want it, but I wrote it about being trapped within depression for so long it’s almost like being in a prison and the depression’s so real and almost human like that it’s just throwing you around all over the place. On the other hand, it can be viewed as being about domestic violence too.
Drawing the curtains and surrounding myself with darkness
I’m lying on the floor, injecting myself with hatred
Prisoner of my own pain, of my thoughts, of the memories that won’t fade
Victimised by the conditioned circumstances, black and blue from head to toe
Reliving the anger, the pain, the blood they took for their material gain
Born into the four walls of anarchy, I’m trying so hard to let everything go
Trying and trying but I keep on failing
Trying and trying but I’m so far from succeeding
Happiness is a long shot away from where I’m standing
I put faith in the ones that should have saved me and after all the years of waiting and waiting
I finally gave up – finally.
__
I’m no longer the one who needs saving, I’m the one you should be breaking
Conditions are changing, my feelings are fading, this pain is never ending but
It feels so good, the adrenaline is pumping and revitalising I almost yearn for another blow
Blood on your hands, poison on your tongue, searching, constantly searching for another one to throw against the wall
Searching; searching for another lonely soul to take, to break and to throw away.
__
Tired of crying and hurting, of constantly being broken
Always looking to throw another blow, another tantrum, never listening to the words being spoken
Four walls built on pain and loneliness, devoid of love and emotion
Creating a multitude of problems and never accepting the solutions
Trying to break through the walls that trap me but I fail physically
Trying to break away from the memories but I fail emotionally
Trying and trying but I’m left jaded
Trying and trying but hope is constantly escaping.
__
Venom seeping in through my veins, tearing up my body and hiding in the crevices of my brain
This is no longer a sickness but a way of life, trying so hard to resist it but I’m ready for acceptance
My world is dark and I’m a long shot away from being saved
Prisoner of my own pain, of my thoughts, of the memories that still won’t fade.
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