Prisoner of Silence (Part One)

Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, and still, She sits and wonders how her life could be so real that it's like a fantasy – a fantasy gone bad. She stops and smiles at herself wondering how she didn't go mad or maybe she really is and just doesn't know. She bows her head as the tears begin to flow. So many things have happened to her, she must laugh at her lot For years she sat in a darkened cave alone and distraught. So familiar with heartache she wanted to run and hide but every time she moved she always seemed to collide into a wall that was unseen, held in place by tightened chains that cut deep into her flesh causing even greater pains. Sometimes she had to stop fighting and just sit down and rest and it sometimes seemed like resting put a bigger burden on her chest. The weights grew so heavy that she knew she couldn't stand she fell to the dirty floor unable to comprehend how life could be so hard, full of disappointment and fear And happiness seemed to turn and run anytime she came near. She didn't know that things are often much different than they appear. Everyday she heard them taunting her, playing their heartless games, she cried so much she eventually believed herself to be all those names that they gave to her, assigned to her, thought of her to be, and all she ever dreamt of was to one day be free. If darkness could be tangible she could hold it in her hands, for it shrouded her and held her captive in its chilling land. A prisoner of silence she was sentenced early on, parole wasn't an option she was sentenced without doing wrong. So in her small cave of darkness she sat as a little girl Afraid and brokenhearted this became her only world Nightmares kept her dreams far from her reach And terrors icy hand held her tight and took her speech She fell deeper into a hole of depression and despair Always hoping for a hand to reach out to her and to care. She lost her voice deep inside of her and silence took its place. It filled her heart and mind without leaving a single trace of who she really was or what she was here to be. This hovel became her home and she had no way to flee. It was a while that she sat there, still, in her cellblock. The guards of Fear and Self-hatred always came to mock. They came to her cell and teased her through the iron bars They whipped her with their hands and words leaving many scars. (continued see part two)