Straitjacket

I am stuck. I can't breathe.

Everything around me slowly fade away.

Illusion of a better life.

it's funny, I can't feel my hands anymore,

don't ask me what's wrong , I don't have a clue.

Probably nothing, but i'm sick,

so in a split second, nothing can easily become everything.

Imagine, you're laying on the couch,

reading your favorite book for the thousandth time,

and suddenly a Shadow come and sit next to you.

The more it stares at you,

the less you're able to move.

Your breath shift, it's fast, sharp,

but still, you can't move.

And it stares at you,

not moving, not talking.

Sometimes, if you're unlucky enough,

it'll whisper to your ear,

convincing you that you became your strongest fears

you become the darkness. The Devil.

The loneliness, the killer clown.

You still can't move.

Your eyes are still open.

Your nostrils are moving so fast,

you're scared you'll start to fly.

Your whole body is as stiff as a mountain,

but your inside is crumbling down

As you try to remember how to breathe,

you become stuck in your own body.

Your arms turned into a straitjacket.

Your legs turn into steel

and your mind become the asylum no one ever escape of.

You try to remember what you've learned,

What you're suppose to do,

when the darkness takes over the light.

But the only things in your mind,

Are those high pitched screams.

Your screams.

So loud, you want to close your eyes.

You need to be stronger than the Shadow.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You have to turn yourself into a light house.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

If the Shadow is a night sky,

turn yourself into the moon.

Breathe in.

Break the straps that your arms have become.

Shut down the asylum in your head.

Don't let the Shadow win again.

Breathe out.