Belladonna

The place people call home, I name my hell. For all I've known is tomb, Of all the memories I bear. The walls hold secrets no one tells, Their silence louder than a cry. Each step I take, a shadow dwells, A past that never says goodbye. The air is thick with things unsaid, With love that left, with dreams that died. I close my eyes, but in my head, The ghosts still sit here by my side. The place people call safe, I call my cage. For all I’ve known is loss, And the weight of quiet rage.

I don't know where I am, or where I should be. I am nothing, I feel nothing, but somehow, it still drowns me. Is this better than being numb? Is this worse than feeling pain? I don’t know—I don’t know anything, just the weight of my own name. I hate this, I hate this, this silence that screams. I want to run, to fade, to disappear, or maybe just breathe. But how? How do I move, when the air is too thick to take in? How do I speak, when my voice is swallowed whole? I don’t know. I don’t know. I just don’t know.