The Forbidden Skies

If I stop resisting the burden of sleep on my eyes, I can feel myself sink deeper.
Deeper where no one can find me, a place that exists only in the dark corners of my mind, a place I dare not speak of.

If Home is where the heart is, mine is a broken sanctuary even gods have forsaken.

There is no sky here, just stone walls and columns that loom over me like giants.
They have no warmth left to give, just isolation.

There is no prayer here, just broken pews and an empty altar.
They won’t be answered, as they won’t be heard.

There is no faith here, just dust and remnants of the crumbling foundation.
They were naïve things to have and been long since plucked away.

But from here I can look up at the muddied stained glass and try to imagine the world on the other side. A world of danger I shouldn’t dare to dream to be a part of. Out there, I will surely be condemned.

But still… something deep inside me has the audacity to dream. Dream of when the sky won’t feel so cold, where the wind won’t scratch like jagged ice against my back anymore. Maybe there, I will be allowed to finally spread my limbs out and take a leap...

Right there, every single time, I wake up. And each time without fail I pay the price for dreaming. For each fallacy I dared to concoct was a sharp reminder of the reality that cut through the fog in sharp lashes. With each strike I crumbled, and piece by piece I broke.

It wasn’t until far too late that I realized I wasn’t broken, I was shattered.