Boxed in

 

Boxed in
I'm trying to breathe.

Expressions of self hit the glass
  and fall limp with crooked wings
    leaving nothing but a smear of hopeless feathers
My soul peeking out of this
  mime-created imaginary cube,
I reach out and my fingers crumple
  against an invisible wall

A prison - is it of my own making?
What holds me inside?

The easy answer is fear
  but there is no prowling tiger out there
    no mortal enemy
      so fight-flight-freeze makes no rational sense
Yet here I sit, encased in ice.
Because it's just not safe out there
Out there is judgement
  the terror of being deemed
incapable
unreliable
unintelligent --
    less.

And worse, the shame in the suspicion
that the judgement might be correct.

So I've stayed, hemmed in for years
  helpless
    humiliated
like when my brother sat on my chest
  pinned my arms
    and tickled me until I peed.



.