Comfort
I found myself in comfort.
Tightly tucked within the folds of my own sadness.
Somehow
Despite it ripping me apart from the inside out,
Leaving nothing behind than a hermit shell of what I used to be;
It was calm.
A calm before the storm.
The silence was deafening yet so peaceful,
It was almost deceitful.
I like to imagine that I am a bird in a cage.
One that, even with a choice of freedom,
is filled with so much rage.
I am afraid that if I was lifted into freedom,
That I would be lifted to another place;
Close to space.
But I shouldn’t think of it.
For the thing that controls it might overpower.
So,
I stay where I am.
Scared to move.
I find myself in comfort.
A place where I have nothing to prove.