Gaol

They tried to build a jail for me,

but instead, I built my own

with walls of futile wishes,

crazy dreams,

and childhood fears:

hard as diamonds

tough as nails.

No need for stone and steel

when secrets will do. 

Here I'm safe from 
shadows and sunshine,

strangers and fairy tales.
Inside these walls I'm safe 

from me

and you.

But though I make my gaol

and imprison myself inside,

I am no martyr.

Prophets may forecast my fate

and seers speak my doom,

yet here there is no jailer

and in my pocket is a key.

So still your mocking laughter

and be not proud,

for I have seen the place you dwell.
You are locked up, too.

 This was written for The Sunday Whirl.