Traumatized

I lay here on my bed forgotten but not yet dead

with my room built of trash from alcohol bottles and cigarette packs I have stacked

my room is dark and secure but not from all I fear

I try to escape through my head but my subconscious   is tied with me to this bed

so I find relief through the blood I have bleed as bits of me have left 

but remnants of my past just keep coming back

so my pain still remains with me through out each and every day

as does my wish to be free from this cage

so I continue to count the days

from when I last saw the world outside this crack

only if I could have an ounce of freedom

I might be able to put an end to the past