Becoming the prisoner.

She listened, she nodded
Poked and prodded
Around the darkness in my head
Pausing to scratch,
like a flea infested dog,
Shocked at what my mind had said,
for she looked a little ghostly,
pale like the reflection
of the snow upon the ground,
was it my insanity, echoing bound,
had she found the hidden truth,
Beyond the walls locked tight,
laughing back at her
now her mind in sight,
Could she see herself
trapped behind the walls,
her dolls no eyes, the tears she cries
into the silence of the night,
Still - oh so still,
not an eyelid battered nor moving will,
I watch her hand as it shakes,
her eyes upon me
No movement they make
At all to see
I entered the door
upon the hour Of three,
Inside her dormancy
Between her illusions,
playing cards with fool's,
Reading old smelling magazines
that she never opened
Nor had the chance to touch
Wrists bound to the cast iron bed
Time for your pills my dear
Echoing within my head
Those six words
were the last ever said
There is no escape , nor ending,
once inside
the darkness of her head
Becoming the prisoner instead.