Release

Imprisonment

I'm locked inside my own mind.
I can't escape.
There's no exit.
There's no keys.

There's just a pathetic little window, looking outside,
but outside, all I see is a dead dandelion, lying in the dirt.

Imprisonment is killing me.
I've written on the walls the days I've stayed.
I need a release, I need to let it out.
But everything I do, keeps me imprisoned.

The bottle makes everything stay bottled up inside me.
It builds up like the bubbles in my pop can,
fizzing, fizzing, until it
bursts.

I wish I could tell you what's going on.
I wish a lot of things.
I think a lot of things.
I guess it comes with being in my cell up here.

Sometimes, the probability of me dying in my own head seems inevitable.
Other times, escape seems like a more probable option.
Neurons, why are you killing me like this?
Neurotransmitters, stop sending the wrong signals.

Imprisonment is tough.
There's days where I feel as empty as a beer bubble.
There's days where I'm full, of anger, sadness, even happiness at times.
But my cell is too dusty and small.

Sitting up against the cold concrete wall, I think.
I think too much.
I don't want to think, I want to do.
But I know, that'd just kill me too.