The walls close in, though the windows are wide,
Every breath a battle, no place to hide.
Her voice, a tide, relentless and cruel,
Dragging me under, breaking every rule.
I’ve stumbled, I’ve fallen, I’ve begged to atone,
Yet my regrets build prisons, stone upon stone.
If only she’d look at the cracks in my frame,
Not twist the knife with my guilt and my shame.
Her gaze is a weight that crushes my chest,
Her words a tempest, denying me rest.
I long for her arms, but they only confine,
Her love feels like poison instead of a lifeline.
Each word she speaks carves wounds so deep,
Scars that bleed when I try to sleep.
A battlefield rages inside my mind,
Her trenches of judgment cruelly designed.
The child in me, fragile and frail,
Hangs by a thread, fighting to prevail.
Her voice once soothing, now sharp as a blade,
Cuts through the dreams I’ve desperately made.
I scream inside, but my cries go unheard,
Lost in the storm of her every word.
If only she’d see the shadows I hide,
The storms that rage, the tears uncried.
I’d show her the dreams I buried in pain,
The remnants of hope drowned in her disdain.
But she won’t step into the chaos I keep,
Won’t hear the agony that robs me of sleep.
Now the air grows thicker, suffocation’s grip,
A love so heavy it forces me to slip.
I claw at the void, for space, for air,
But her shadow looms, unyielding, unfair.