The Jailer

He takes my voice. He steals my energy.
He stays my hand. He disrupts my synergy.
He distorts my mind. He holds me back.
He keeps me outside, away from the pack.

I am always the watcher. I always long.
I am always desperate. What went wrong?
I am always searching. I am never sought.
I am always alone, even when not.

No lack of desire, but full of regret.
No tangible form, only silhouette.
Nowhere to turn, only safety inside.
Away from where thought, and others collide.

The hatred of self. The threat of failure.
The fear of disappointment. I am my jailer.
The knowledge of time. Aware of its distance.
This is by far, the most painful existence.

*written/posted in 2012, when I first attempted writing…that’s my excuse