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An introvert, at times longing for human contact/connection, only to be reminded that the world is a cruel place. It's easier to build walls and hide.

My heart and mind are housed
in a desolate, isolated cottage
with ten locks on every door
shutters closed on every window
and every exit (and entrance) completely boarded.

I hide within dark and dusty rooms
with an all-but burnt out candle
as my only light with which to read
and to re-read my self-defeating thoughts.

Occasionally I trick myself into thinking
that I see the hint of warm sunlight
coming through from outside
and I dare to try to hope.

Slowly, painfully,
I remove each nailed-in plank
covering the windows
I desperately rip at the wood
until my hands bleed
I search every drawer, every pocket
until I find every key.

But when I finally take
that first, eager step outside
I find a wasteland, devoid of sun
there is no light, nor warmth
just acid rain
burning all my senses,
and monsters in every shadow.

Defeated, I rebuild my defenses
lock every door
close the shutters
nail boards on every entrance (and exit)
until I can once again sit in silence
wrap myself in a flimsy blanket
and watch my candle slowly die.