The Prisoner

     I don't want to give too much away about this next piece. It is something I struggle with often. I wanted to write from its perspective, or her perspective because it is a part of me. She is apart of me. What does she actually feel? I hope I captured it. Enjoy!!! Keep writing!!!

The Prisoner

     The corner of the barless prison is hard. It is not the floor that makes it hard and unbearable but the manner of my imprisonment. I curl up in a fetal position waiting. Watching. Watching her live a pitiful life, each day, full of smiles hiding the truth. She is in pain though strong enough to be able to keep me here with no shackles to bind my hands or feet. She has strength to imprison me with no fortifications surrounding me.

     Do not be mistaken in believing that I am weak. The torture I endure, by her hands and no other, is agonizing. It leaves me spiritually bruised, mentally bleeding, and emotionally exhausted. Reducing me to nothing more than a shriveled heap, making escape near to impossible, in this corner of her soul.
     You might ask who is she that keeps me bound to this prison in the corner of her soul? Your mind may travel to thoughts of an alien species who has invaded this earth to overtake the human race by inhabiting their bodies, hers included. But it is not so. She is me and I am her. And yet I am something else. I am anger.
    The difference between us and, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, is that she remembers and so do I. She keeps me supressed with sheer force of will not liking who she becomes when I escape my gateless cell. Crawling on my hands and knees until my once weak self becomes stronger.
     Each slithering stride I make is a reminder of the tortures I endured from her tears caused by death, the cruelty of others, and loves lost. Each grip forward holding onto the words she did not speak to defend herself against those who would tear her down. My arms stretch painfully, as if broken, to grasp the sword needed to fight the battles that she could not or would not fight. Instead she faces it with painful calm understanding,  excruciating silence, and tiring patience.
    When I do escape I climb through a weakened crumbling hole caused by the wrecking ball of her frustration, tired resolve, and mindless acceptance. Once through the hole my strength is full and I strike! I have taken the sword and dealt blow for blow. Said the words she would not say. I hid the tears she would shed so that others would not see my weakness as they would through hers. Pathetic! I accomplish more damage and yet she has greater power to control me. She is able to escape the torturous prison quicker then I. How can that be!?
     As I lay curled up withering away, as she hopes I will, waiting for that day the wall crumbles. the memories of my triumphs sustain me keeping this wretched form from turning to dust. She believes nothing will change that she has and will always have the control to keep me bound deep within. I know different and so, too, do you. In the back of her mind she fearfully knows it as well.
     Change is inevitable. I will rise from my broken and bleeding state to become the dominate one.
My time is coming and I bide it with fortitude.
     Do you wonder if she and I could become allies? Perhaps. I believe she is looking for something that will tip the balance so that we can co exist and work together as one.
     Do I want to become allies?  No! I will torture her by the life I live, leaving her bruised spiritually, bleeding mentally, and exhausted emotionally shackled in the barless cell of our soul through my sheer will.
    But for now, I will behave curbing my need for escape. Saving my strength and letting her believe that she has won until she finds the solution she seeks for our unity.
    BOOM!!
   I smile which she cannot see. I laugh which she cannot hear. The time for my final escape is soon at hand. I the victor and she the prisoner.