Melancholy - poem

In Handcuffs For Freedom

My bed is my prison I've been stuck in
The blankets pulling me down
Like chains tied to my feet.
Calling me a criminal
For the way I've been running away,
I'm in a getaway car away from my problems.
But the thing is,
I can never run away from them
When the problem is stuck to me
Attached like an invisible sickness
Nobody can see.
It's the mind
For the older I get,
The more I can see the things that are wrong,
The things I can't change.
If I tried,
It'd be worse than laying in my bed all day.
No matter how much it hurts,
They broke me first.
I'm already stuck in handcuffs,
Begging for the freedom,
I've been wanting, wishing, living for.
Just to stay alive,
What kind of courage would I need
When I already know,
I have the right to remain silent
Anything I say will be held against me.
Silence has been my lesson
It's been taught to give up
To raise your hands but don't show attention
Because nobody likes that.
Suffering in silence,
Jail bars separating you from them.
The illusion is,
You aren't like them,
They are the ones in the jail
With the handcuffs behind their backs.
Domestic violence is a killer,
It's been a crime
For it to ever be your fault.
Because it isn't,
being a witness or a victim,
To something rarely ever talked about.
Expressing your feelings is like pouring
Alcohol over an open wound.
But like an open wound,
It relatively heals
Still leaving a mark in the place
You will never forget.
The chains are still here dragged around
On the feet that tried to run,
The face that cried in terror,
And the voice that will never leave your head.
There will always be reminders,
The favorite place you went with them,
Favorite song you blasted to,
Where you stood when it happened,
The way it felt that still hits your body hard.
Time distances it trying to dull the pain,
But neither is achieved,
Like it's gone.
It will always live on.
As the memory where everything changed.