Closed

My heart and mind are housed

in a desolate, isolated cottage

with ten locks on every door

shutters closed on every window

and every exit (and entrance) completely boarded.

I hide within dark and dusty rooms

with an all-but burnt out candle

as my only light with which to read

and to re-read my self-defeating thoughts.

Occasionally I trick myself into thinking

that I see the hint of warm sunlight

coming through from outside

and I dare to try to hope.

Slowly, painfully,

I remove each nailed-in plank

covering the windows

I desperately rip at the wood

until my hands bleed

I search every drawer, every pocket

until I find every key.

But when I finally take

that first, eager step outside

I find a wasteland, devoid of sun

there is no light, nor warmth

just acid rain

burning all my senses,

and monsters in every shadow

Defeated, I rebuild my defenses

lock every door

close the shutters

nail boards on every entrance (and exit)

until I can once again sit in silence

wrap myself in a flimsy blanket

and watch my candle slowly die.