What else is left when restraint becomes a prison?
I was told to cage all these emotions, that
they are sin when visible.
But what should and should not exist?
Based on one other's poison
designed to change you?
Souls naturally do not
abide by the cage,
it struggles and it writhes.
The being struggles as it's being contained.
Only when that very prison
is from my own creation,
it holds me together, keeping myself metered.
So when it needs to be freed,
I let the vice free, and the restraints broken.
Although it slowly destroys me, I know no other language
that curates that anger and dissipates it.
No, it's not always the loudness, or the violence.
But the uncontained raw vehemence.
Internally dying, but I am free.
Why should I go back to that cage not made
by my own hands?
The very one that held onto and twisted everything
that I was?
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