Walking Upon The Edge Of The Abyss

I can't see them

But I know

They're real

To me.

 

Holding my body

And soul

Within it's grasp

Like a jail cell

Of my own creation.

 

Without any need

For guards or a warden

To keep me

Separated from the other prisoners

Beyond my mind.

 

The space

Between my apartment

And the hallway

Might as well be

The Mariana's Trench

In the Pacific Ocean.

 

Just being near

The apartment door

Sends off spikes of fear

Radiating throughout my body

Pinning me

To that spot.

 

And yet

I know

My time is

Running out for me

Before our confrontation

Which I dread.

 

But face you

I must

To regain my freedom

Once more.

 

If only

For a second.

Author's Note

Originally written, July 16, 2014, during my summer long bout of agoraphobia.