Trapped
I’m a rat trapped in a cage. Spinning my wheel round & round forever. The days don’t start & the days don’t end. I just exist & at the same time I don’t. It makes me wonder if phantoms are real & if they are is this how they feel? Like they’re floating outside reality. Here but not. Alive, but dead. Does it matter if your body is breathing, or moving if you don’t actually feel alive? I want to feel the relief, joy, & million other things I know I should feel because one of my demons has been exorcised. But what’s one demon when you have hundreds. Sometimes I think even if I’m exorcised to within an inch of life. Even if all that’s left is just a silver of my soul. That I’ll never really be free from the torment I’ve been buried inside of. How can I crawl my way out of hell when the claws of the devil have been imbedded into my skin. The harder I try to fight for the freedom that I can practically taste on the tip of my tongue. The more those claws tear through me, until they’ve shredded through tendons, ligaments, muscles, & bones. Leaving nothing left but my severed remains. Even if there is a way I can save myself. A way to truly be free. Somehow I think the questions swimming through my head will never change. Who am I? How could you? What have you done to me? And even when you’re gone will I survive you?
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