Walls are built easily, and easily maintained.
They always seem to have a purpose; keep us safe and the bad things out. After a while we're boxed in. The roof is as thick as dragon scales and the walls might as well be mountains. The ground beneath us has become the most potent steel, leaving neither dent nor scratch.
Safe. Our solitary room leaves space for little. We might think that we can now finally live. Finally invite only what we want, or who we want. Everything and everyone bad stays outside..
But there lurks a demon there. It creeps in the shadows of the room. It appears briefly in mirrors. It whisper safety and rot:
"Your ambition drove you to damn yourself to a prison stronger than your own inhibition. You have become the warden of these chains and I your torturer, for I am no Demon but merely the reflection of your mangled self. I am what you make in safety. I am what you have become. I am rot and I am you"
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// I often think of how we create our own mental prisons formed from walls we interpret as safety. For me, I've come to the conclusion that these walls only serve to delay and rot our own potential. I've tried very hard to work on myself this past year and I believe it's given result. What do you think, any insight or thought is welcome <3