Padded Room

It’s loud, chaotic, and wild,

Yet, silent.

The silence is that of a padded room with no windows… and just 1 tightly shut door.

It’s not locked, but I refuse to leave unless it’s safe for me.

“it’s better in there than out here,” they say.

I believe them, I do, each one.

For I was out there before, and my mind was lost.

My body roamed, being abused and broken.

I could do nothing but run and hide.

Run into this padded room and hide from any harm.

Where I’m safe, protected, and I can’t be affected by the damage of anyone.

…yet, the silence is so loud, it hurts.

My chest, my head, my ears, my mind…

I’m alive, I’m here, but I’m gone, I’m dead.

And yet, every time I try to leave the room,

To breathe, to run, to feel alive…

To hear a noise other than silence,

To feel a touch other than my own,

To taste a different type of air other than the only air I've ever known,

To smell a scent that might trigger safety and joy,

To see something other than the small world that I always... see…

I run back to my padded room.

The silence might be chaotic,

But no harm can be done to me.

And I choose to believe,

To hold on to the thought that one day I’ll see—

Some day my hand will hold another,

And my soul will finally be free.