As I stare within translucent walls,
silk pellucid barriers built of delicate lies I tell myself,
I realize the Time I’ve waisted living within a delusion;
each crevice a memory, every shard a deception;
Marring the incandescence of my cage.
Slivers of light remain, just beyond the barriers, out of reach.
A tantalizing mirage of hope, a secret I hold close,
an honest illusion; more forthright than the truth.
Often, I feel glass walls encased around my soul;
vices built of expectations, of grave disappointments,
and writhe beneath them.
The hopes and dreams I once lived and breathed,
enclosed within a glass partition;
fine fragility seen and delicately confined, elusive;
lying just beyond the confines I erected within.
This is my confession:
That when one chooses to lock away their pain,
they lock away their propensity to grieve,
to heal, to hope, to dream, to live.
As I contemplate the truth:
that I locked away the means of my own freedom long ago,
and I acknowledge the reality of my predicament,
the paradigm of my own self-deception,
that I shut away a piece of myself that I can never get back;
caged within the glass walls within me,
lying just beyond reach.