Escape

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Escape

I want nothing more than the blissful surrender.
To feel in control again,
To feel safe forever.
I wish to soar through the fluffy silver clouds
As their mist splashes me in the face
And I smile, and laugh, not a care would I have.
I want to breathe without the constant choking
Back of tears, without the taste of vomit in my throat,
Without fear and with all sorts of hopes.
I want to throw on my headphones,
Blare the music and just escape,
Into a place where there is no screaming.
I want my nerves to stop poking me
On the insides on my arms,
And to quiet them down, and get rid of these urges.
I am enslaved to these demons.
They have bound and gagged me
For years on end.
They have silenced my cries
And drank my blood with sick glee.
Their thirst grows faster
And I could not possibly produce enough elixir
To satisfy them.
They sit on my shoulder.
Inhabitingthe bubble of protection I have
Constructed and upheld for ages.
Escape comes in no recognized form
Because no matter what I do
They probe a gnarly stick like finger into my ear
To twinge my brain and whisper
"You cannot rid yourself of us that easily, my dear."
And they mock my efforts.
And remind me that I am forever theirs.
The chains restrain me and I cannot get away.
Their words cripple me and I cannot escape.
Their hands make me shudder, yet I cannot cry.
They won't let me go, and I have no idea why.
And now they sit there infront of me
As I collapse from trying to rip the chains from the walls.
The one lessvoicferous holds out her hand,
A small velvet box, neat and delicate, sits on her palm.
The stick like girl who chants non-stop
Lights the way to a room with a special throne
Where there awaits a queen whom I may bow down before.
There is a shadow like demon, obviously in charge,
Who speaks for the one less voicferious.
"Here you may choose,"
She begins to explain,
"The food inside you must come up, or you must take the blade."
The chains vanish and I fall to my hands and knees.
Before me is the silent one,
Tears of blood does she bleed.
She opens up the beautiful velvet box
To expose the slim razor beneath the lid.
As I start to reach out
I see something on the wall in the distance.
Chained to the wall is she,
Jearking and fighting to simply escape and break free.
And though she looks unfamiliar,
In her eyes I can see
That she is the image of who I used to be.
I see the pleading arise in her eyes.
And as she starts to cry she disappears form my sight.
My pale white hand hovers shakingly over the blade.
I don't want to choose.
I want only to escape.

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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

silentcry09’s Poems (62)

Title Comments
Title Comments
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Stride 0
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