Comfort

I found myself in comfort.

Tightly tucked within the folds of my own sadness.

Somehow

Despite it ripping me apart from the inside out,

Leaving nothing behind than a hermit shell of what I used to be;

It was calm.

A calm before the storm.

The silence was deafening yet so peaceful,

It was almost deceitful.

I like to imagine that I am a bird in a cage.
One that, even with a choice of freedom,

is filled with so much rage. 

I am afraid that if I was lifted into freedom,

That I would be lifted to another place;

Close to space.

But I shouldn’t think of it.

For the thing that controls it might overpower. 

So,

I stay where I am.

Scared to move.

I find myself in comfort.

A place where I have nothing to prove.