Claustrophobe

Raindrops on a window
She Is That Strong
November 27, 2017
Rocky shoreline
The Loneliest Place
December 13, 2017

Claustrophobe

Bare light bulb in old room

In these dreams I dream these days
that a secret fear I’d locked away
and hoped to never bring this way
has finally come to call.

I stumble forth from sheets still wet
in sleep I dampened them with sweat
while try I might but never yet
have I made it past these walls.

I struggle now to find a door
and running circles round the floor
my heart it breaks again once more
to hear the echo of my calls.

There’s no door that I can find.

No ladder to the top to climb.

No window shares the sweet outside.

In the corner now, I weep and hide
from fear that wells up deep inside
it bubbles up within my mind
and traps me yet again.

The open air that was my friend
has left me here to break, not bend
Claustrophobe with naught to lend
but the dreams of which I fear.

Christopher Muggridge
Christopher Muggridge
Christopher Muggridge is a creative writer based in London, Canada. He engages in a wide range of writing styles including poetry, personal essays, articles, short stories, novels; as well as whatever else may float his boat or tickle his fancy. He is not adverse to drawing on personal experience to write about mental health issues or his perspectives on human interaction.

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