Armor, Bombshelter, Jail

I need to get out of this house.
I force my fave into a smile, that smile a trial of my resistance.
Every second a sentance hurled at me that collides hard and fast and on the outside I take it
- I keep standing but all the while I can't help but think:
I am not shatterproof.
Hairline cracks already spider around my armor, more like a bombshelter I cannot escape.
My heart yearns desperately for the chance to free itself but it has long since learned that
my shelter isn't a last resort, a 'just in case' occasional visit.
It's a home.
And every time I've ventured forth another explosion from beyond your barracks haunts my ears and I hide.
And the stronger I become, my shelter
- more like a jail - 
crackes just a little bit more. 
And I fall to the floor in fear.
Deep, heavy, it consumes the room.
A monster ready to rip me apart from the inside out.

So here I sit, wondering, when the strife breaks through these jail walls....
What will I do?