A prisoner of my mind
Some call it a gift
I call it a curse.
The constant racing
I'm held captive
with no where to run
no one to understand.
I'm trapped inside a room
but I can see the outside and I want out.
Those on the outside seem to carry themselves with such lightness.
But in here, in here the load is heavy. There is nothing light.
There are glimpses and moments of light, but not often.
Often I seen darkness. Often I feel heaviness.
As I continue to observe the others enjoy themselves outside of me,
I wonder, why. Why not them. Why are they not held captive.
Or are they.
Captive by their racing thoughts.
Prisoners of their minds.
The constant racing.
With no where to run
No one to understand.
Do they also live inside their head, as I do.
Are they really free.
The medication doesn't help captivity.
He Who Made the World allows captivity to continue.
Without freedom one goes insane.
I am in need
of
freedom.
