Prisoner

I’m a prisoner in my own world,

Jailed in my own home.

Where else can I go?

If my house is no longer my home?

What was mine no longer is,

What was there, gone in the mist.

All but the one thing which I treasure the most,

The only thing which I can call truly mine.

My dreams and my mind.

As I sit on my bed I think of the world outside,

So many people, not one to call mine.

Banished by my blood,

Parted from my love.

Who do I have now?

Just me and myself?

No one to see what I see,

No one to feel what I feel.

I live a lonely life,

Surrounded by many,

Understood by none.

Some say they love and care,

But I know it’s someone else they want.

Not who they see, but someone he should be.

Religion and society and pride they say.

What is it? Who is truly to blame?

Blinded by faith, nothing beyond they can see.

Bound by society and all of its rules.

Pride being the only thing they would hate to loose.