Poetry – A Prison without walls

My Prison of Depression

by Julie Richards

I am behind a wall with no windows and no doors.

I feel trapped and helpless.

But inside this prison, I am safe,

from the outside world,

And their destructive words and actions,

which threatens to destroy me.

There is no one in this prison, except for the prisoner (me)

and the jailer(me)

Life in this prison is not pleasant.

The only company is the jailer,

She is very cruel.

She taunts me with self-criticisms.

Thus the isolation starts as a place of safety

but soon becomes a place of torture.

And the depression begins.

Inside this prison, there is a massive wall,

separating me from the outside world.

I reach out for help.

But the barrier intervenes.

I take a step forward.

But there is nowhere to go.

There are no windows.

There are no doors.

People are reaching out to me.

I can hear them, but I cannot touch.

Loneliness and fear shut them out.

My fears of being hurt again result in me being alone.

I must live my life with this fear of growing old,

unwanted and unloved

and being on my own.

I have grown up with this barrier against other people,

stopping me getting too close.

I have this powerful feeling that if I let the barrier down,

I will be swirled away in a destructive flood of emotions.

I cannot risk letting down my wall and discover

what it would be like in an intimate relationship.

It could be a relationship where I float in a flood of joyful emotions with no barriers.

A flood where  I float in bliss, happiness, and love.

Not as I do now feel only fear,  helplessness, and sorrow.

I grew up loving my parents, and fearing them a little.

They disappointed me, hurt, betrayed and abandoned me.

Now I feel afraid to love completely,

I must protect myself from ever feeling this hurt again.

If I don’t protect myself who will protect me.

So a life of isolation is what is in store for me.

I need to start digging a tunnel to get out of this hell hole,

 to escape the darkness and find the light.

I have to stop blaming myself, for my family being like barbwire ‘untouchable’

It is not my fault my mother was misguided, mistaken and confused.

Or my fault my father abandoned me and died.

I know once I accept this I will find the light.

Free to live and love.

The first time in my life.

I was twenty-one when I wrote this poem.

I have posted it here in the raw format as I wrote with no changes


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