My Personal Torture

Cold, dank darkness surrounded me,

A dungeon of my worst fears.

People mock me and I sit,

I sit and stare at the world.

I am lost, lost to all I know.

A light far from here turns on.

I crawl to the light, hoping for salvation,

But the light never draws near.

I move, I crawl, I run, and I walk.

My feet are cut from the jagged stones that make my hell.

My knees are weak and ache.

My hands, usually warm and able,

Grow cold and stiff from all my work.

Suddenly I’m in a new place, just as bad as before.

A puzzling maze which is guarded by Satan’s children.

The maze is wicked and haunting.

The walls usually made of bushes,

Are made of thorns and heartache.

I reach the end.

My savior is standing there.

The perfect image of the shining knight.

I run for him to get away from all the pain.

Just before I leap into his arms,

He disappears. My hopes vanish as quickly as they came.

I return to my hole.

My hole of pain and sadness,

Of fear, tears, and self loathing.

Tomorrow I will go again to that maze.

That maze which most people have claimed to hate.

My maze to endure for two more years.

That maze called high school.