Prisoner of Silence

Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, and still,
She sits and wonders how her life could be so real
that it’s like a fantasy – a fantasy gone bad.
She stops and smiles at herself wondering how she didn’t go mad
or maybe she really is and just doesn’t know.

She bows her head as the tears begin to flow.
So many things have happened to her, she must laugh at her lot
For years she sat in a darkened cave alone and distraught.
So familiar with heartache she wanted to run and hide
but every time she moved she always seemed to collide
into a wall that was unseen, held in place by tightened chains
that cut deep into her flesh causing even greater pains.

Sometimes she had to stop fighting and just sit down and rest
and it sometimes seemed like resting put a bigger burden on her chest.
The weights grew so heavy that she knew she couldn’t stand
she fell to the dirty floor unable to comprehend
how life could be so hard, full of disappointment and fear
And happiness seemed to turn and run anytime she came near.
She didn’t know that things are often much different than they appear.

Everyday she heard them taunting her, playing their heartless games,
she cried so much she eventually believed herself to be all those names
that they gave to her, assigned to her, thought of her to be,
and all she ever dreamt of was to one day be free.
If darkness could be tangible she could hold it in her hands,
for it shrouded her and held her captive in its chilling land.
A prisoner of silence she was sentenced early on,
parole wasn’t an option she was sentenced without doing wrong.

So in her small cave of darkness she sat as a little girl
Afraid and brokenhearted this became her only world
Nightmares kept her dreams far from her reach
And terrors icy hand held her tight and took her speech
She fell deeper into a hole of depression and despair
Always hoping for a hand to reach out to her and to care.
She lost her voice deep inside of her and silence took its place.
It filled her heart and mind without leaving a single trace
of who she really was or what she was here to be.
This hovel became her home and she had no way to flee.

It was a while that she sat there, still, in her cellblock.
The guards of Fear and Self-hatred always came to mock.
They came to her cell and teased her through the iron bars
They whipped her with their hands and words leaving many scars.
What was left within her? There was nothing ever spoke.
Did she mean anything to anyone or was her life just a joke?
She wasn’t laughing, she was crying tears too big to shed
The wounds continued bleeding and infection seemed to spread.
She knew that she wouldn’t make it, she knew that she would die
For years she’d been in this place there was no one to reply.
Words are like arrows and sometimes pierce us to the core
They’re thrown around haphazardly and then they’re thrown some more.
To this prisoner of silence, alone in her cell,
A word of life could do so much, it could change her world.

She cried out daily for a rescue to take place
She longed for her time to be up and maybe she could taste
A part of life she’d never known to be available to see
Something different from the ugly darkness, where is her beauty?

A guard came to the cell with a visitor in tow
Said his name was Truth and he had a richened glow
that lifted some of the darkness that had cuffed her in so tight.
It was then that she began to see things in a different light.
He told her she he could free her and her eyes changed with a small hope
She was very scared and put her chained hands out slightly to grope
To find his hand not knowing what to expect
He gave her something glassy that seemed to reflect.
She saw it was a mirror and held it up to her eyes.
They were full of pain and sorrow, there was no way to disguise
The anguish and abuse that covered her in a shallow grave
She had become more than a victim, she’d become a slave.
She wept softly at what her life had become
in her mouth held silently chained still and unused sat her tongue.
Truth stared into her eyes and said what do you want me to do?
Let me tell you a story and I’ll ask again when I’m through.
I’ve known you for a while now and I’ve been waiting for your call.
It was when you cried out for a rescue that your chains began to fall
Sitting silent and in this cell, with her head down and eyes half closed
She decided she needed to look again and see the way Truth glowed.

She lifted up her head and tried to focus her eyes
Suddenly she saw Truth above all the mountain of lies.
She wasn’t all alone as she had thought before
The truth had been there waiting for her like an open door.
All the years of lies ran – she heard them shrieking down the hall
The more she focused on the Truth, the more the lies got small.
The chains began to break, their hold could be no more
For Truth had it’s vengeance and higher was his score.

She shifted on the bed as the tears continued to flow.
She thanked God for her freedom from the undertow.
Finally she made it to where she wanted to be
Finally, yes finally, she was free.


In conclusion…

I have nothing inspiring to say. I don’t even have anything uninspiring to say. It’s almost like my voice or inner thought-box is broken. Every thought that comes through my mind is rejected.

Do you know what it is like to want something so badly and try and try and try and then finally realize that it is never going to happen?


That’s where I am. But yet I’m not.

I am not sure whether to allow myself to come to the point of acceptance or just keep waiting. To wait is torture. To accept is torture.

Things are not what they were that is for sure. I would venture to say that most all of the time, things are never what they were.

For anyone.


Change is the only thing that is guaranteed to happen, whether it be for good or for bad. Even when we sit and think that nothing is changing. Something is. And in that instant, it’s our mindset that is changing. We are accepting something as a truth. We can lie to ourselves long enough that we will believe it. We can tell ourselves a truth long enough that we will believe it.

I don’t know what keeps me holding on.

Maybe it is a dream inside of me that just refuses to die. Unfortunately, when others are involved in dreams, it doesn’t always work to let your dreams go on. Because that is infringing on another person’s dreams which might not be the same.

No one can assume that they know what is going on in another  or that they know how someone else feels or thinks because we are all different people. Even people we have a connection with, we connect, but we aren’t the same person. And who would want to be? I would suppose that is the reason for communication. Good communication takes work. Good communication cannot be built on how you”read” a situation or a person. Cause guess what?

You could be wrong.

You could think something is going on with someone and that be the furthest thing from the truth possible. And believing something to be truth that you know nothing about can really put walls up and separate and divide what could be something different.

But good communication will always break down walls.

We’ve all done this and anyone who says they haven’t is just obscuring the truth from themselves.

Intentions? Do intentions make things real? Or do they just make them intentional?

I would have….

I was going to….

I almost…

But guess what?

You didn’t.

So many complications. So many things could be made simple. But, I guess, it just depends on what is important, or on who is important.

I would say that maybe I am just not ready to come to a conclusion about myself or about someone  or about a situation. Not without further questioning. Not without more time.

And later if I find out that I should have, I don’t think that I will consider it time wasted. I think instead I will see it as a time that I took to truly listen and feel what I was feeling and what they were feeling and maybe see things from a different perspective.

So give up? No. Conclude? Not a chance.

Make any sense at all or have anything to say about it?


Be completely vague and yet totally have a point always to my rambling?