Hopeless corridors placed around my head.

Around different areas of my mind.

Areas I don’t want to see and areas that have bled.

Cuts and bruises around sensitive parts make me scared.

Yelling and screaming is all they’ve done.

Tempers flared.

Pain and hurt have spread while I hide away.

No one’s here.

No one can ever stay.

I won’t let them see me like this.

Not this way.

Not in a painful and weakening bliss.

They never see me anyway.

I’m the weakest link in society.

The prey.

No one cares to keep me safe and no one has to.

I can do it on my own.

I don’t need a crew.

Smiles and lies I tell all the time.

Look strong, never fall like the weak.

It’s a survival instinct, not a crime.

As I fall asleep, I dream of better things.

Life without problems.

Without puppet strings.