Somehow, I'll Make It Through

Feelings of being held prisoner... Not always physical

The isolation gnaws at my essence
Slowing eroding the man
My constraints are not defined by the physical
They exist only in the labyrinth of consciousness
Hidden from the prying eyes of John Q Public
Concealed in the dark chambers of my mind
Away from the callous and apathetic
So I’ll continue to roam in my solitude
My destination unknown, the time of my arrival unclear
The silence adopted by my pride �" which refuses any attempt at assistance
Lest I should ever appear weak
Maybe I should break, and take an offered hand
Today will not be that day though
As I continue to walk alone
Battered and broken

”That’s life, that’s what all the people say
You’re riding high in April, shot down in May”
- Frank Sinatra