I am desparate to escape the cage in which I am imprisoned.
Every day, I scratch a mark on the wall to keep track of how many days had passed.
I've written my way out of this before,
but I don't think my words will save me this time.
The demons keep me in with their cold, clammy hands.
They put fear in my mind,
despair in my heart,
all to keep me in my jail.
I have screamed.
I have called out for help.
I have done everything there is to do.
No one listens.
They don't pay attention as I am pulled deeper into the abyss.
They all see me.
They know how I suffer.
But the only thing they do is make it worse.
There is only so much pain I can take before I finally break.
People tell me to get over it.
That I'll be fine.
But will I?
They pay no attention as the demons ensnare me in the cage.
They don't hear my cries for help.
They watch as I beg for mercy.
Then they leave.
I scratch out words on the bars of my prison.
I tell stories on the walls.
Stories of hope and courage.
They fuel me, telling me that I can do it.
That I will make it out.