Hiding Place

I cry beneath the blanket of security.
Scared and alone,
from lifetimes of drama
and crisis.
The way I think,
Feel,
Live;
That's all changed into something else.
Something so alien,
I find myself questioning the guest inside me:
"Who are you?"
"Where did you come from?"
She gives me no answers.
Locked away in her room;
my frail body and confused mind.

I've ventured into the unknown.
A place so remote,
no one dares to even make an attempt at finding,
Exploring,
Putting it on a map,
so that those of us who fall victim to it's gravitational pull
can find a path back to familiar territory.

It has a bizarre sort of atmosphere.
So humid and dry.
I feel like a walking skeleton,
scorched from multiple burns.
Heavy breathing to fill my dust filled lungs with cool, clean life.
But like a tree
snapped in a tornado with an F5 rating,
the strange world shifts to a new scene
from a movie I've watched on so many occasions before this,
but is different each time it comes on.

I am cold and wet.
Soaking from the tears, sweat, and rain
washing over my slow moving body.
The precipitation blurs my vision.
Unable to see,
I fall into a black hole.
My pupils are shot out by blinding darkness.
I can't breath or speak.
My screams stay lodged in my throat,
clawing at my vocal cords to escape.
But my ears won't listen in their ignorance.

I find myself twisted underneath my now torn and frayed quilt.
I wait anxiously for my seamstress to repair the damage that's been inflicted,
but she is nowhere to be found.

So here I am.
Left to wallow in confusion and doubt,
as I make this new life a home.
And establish a private oasis.