TRAPPED

Inside my head
Is my cluttered childhood bedroom
Clothes swallowing the bubbled, water damaged floor
Mold creeping down the walls
Dripping from the ceiling

If I try to open the door
The moment I touch the knob
The lights turn off
And the door vanishes
There’s no way out
I cannot leave

Inside my head
I’m sitting on my childhood bed
My knees tucked up to my chest
Hoping if I can curl up small enough
I might be able to shrink into nothing
And just f*****g disappear

If my eyes look vacant
It’s because I’m not there
I’m stuck in that tiny room
Rocking back and forth
Banging my fists against the walls
Until I’m resigned and sore

Author's Note

The first stanza when I describe my room isn’t an exaggeration. I spent my formative childhood years living in a mobile home. When it rained water would leak into my room and stain my walls with water damage and soak my bed. The floors really did bubble up with mold.

That was when I first started to feel trapped and it still hasn’t gone away. I might as well still be stuck there.

Reviews

[Onlyme]

Lost your poem, really got me. I really felt your heartfelt, raw emotion, of pain and hurt. And it was like you were back there for real. And then I saw your Author's note And saw why I felt that. I can really understand why your past haunts you still. PTSD sounds like you might suffer from. Due to a horrible upbringing. I hear you're paid. Let it out. And keep expressing yourself. I hated my own childhood it was f*****g evil. But things do get better over time. Honest Dawn.

[Lost]

Thank you so much 💜 I always appreciate your comments and support. I hope all is well with you and those you love :)