I’ve been told one too many times,
To stay shut and put,
To look away from them,
To stay away from them,
Not to show my face anywhere,
Except when they need me,
To get them out of their mess,
With the promise of a pay,
The pay that never sees light.
I’ve been locked up one too many times,
Hidden away from the world,
Padded in the darkest of rooms,
The cold floor my new bed,
Stripped of any warm clothing,
Fed like a dog whose loyalty is expected,
And like my introverted self,
I always wished to like that condition.
Like a dog, I am on a leash,
Directives provided by their highnesses,
Don’t start conversations,
Don’t end them either,
Do not do this,
Do not do that,
It’s all overwhelming,
And as usual,
I need a escape.
And that woman,
The one who ordered me into silence,
Who never appreciates any sound from me,
Who hates me like I stole her will to live,
Who thinks I’m worthless,
She’s always staring,
Watching,
Stalking,
Waiting for day to change to night,
So she can continue from where she left,
Her grunts, moans and satisfaction,
Whilst me,
A padded mouth.
I want to run,
But can I?
And even if I did,
Would I reach far?
It’s been years since I stepped out,
I’m a prisoner in my home,
I hate what I’ve become,
Who I’ve become,
A once strong and fierce man,
Forced into silence,
By she,
The woman of the ruins.
I once loved silence,
But now,
I hate it.
Because my thoughts scream at me,
Pushing me towards the sharp objects,
Tempting me into ending my misery,
As if anybody will ever miss me?
I hate my life,
A life that’s mine no more,
A borrowed life,
A spiteful life.
I don’t know if I’m scared,
Or if I’m just beautifully scarred.
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