Phantasmagoria

Man I feel trapped. Everywhere I turn to look there’s wall bricked up with hard lessons I can’t squeeze myself or penetrate out of. I hear voices and they tell me bad things; they lead me to knives and razors. I hear noises outside my solitary imprisonment. An infant crying in the empty corridors, melodies from electrical appliances built by the man, and of course my blood pulsating through my veins is so scary. If not, then it is noisy. I want to escape, freedom and space to breathe is all I deem as an honour, it’s written on every page of my mind. I see my after. Then I lived, now am suffering, and there’s more to come. Maybe that’s why I’m troubled within the confines of my own. I look up to the creator whenever I feel this way. He’s a comfort though His face remains blur to me. The closest I ever was to seeing His face was last night…. Afraid, walking towards the light, His voice heavenly as He spoke to me, His feet lightly hang in air. Spread wings and His hands reached up to me. I peeked above, to His face, and the bright light burned my eyes, it was too bright, the moment of seeing beyond was gone. I woke up!

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