My mind is my prison, but I hold the key

My mind is my prison

when it should be my home

where I sit in front

of an open fire and

keep myself snug and warm.

 

Instead my prison guards

are my thoughts and

situations my bars,

together they keep me

in solitary confinement,

but I am always keeping

a close watch on my sentries

as they make their regular patrol

and I begin to see a pattern

to their sly movements.

My bars are not quite

as strong as they appear

 

so, I begin to retake

control and hold them fast

until the moment arrives

when I can break them down

and let them loose

to continue on their journey,

allowing me to unlock the door

to escape the cell and

to rejoin the world again.

 

Home.

 

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