What lies await outside my front door
Who is out there ready to settle a score
My brain yells out a warning to stay put
Each time the door opens more than a foot
All of my muscles tremble and quake
I suddenly feel very much awake
Sweat beads up on my brow and neckline
I tell myself maybe I can do it this time
Most days I can’t… I’d rather be dead
Is any of it real, or is it all in my head
I want to believe life can be better than this
That I’ll wake up tomorrow and find my bliss
Bed is a sanctuary and torture device
My body hurts from being tossed all night
No exercise and no fresh air
The lack of sunshine keeps me fair
Black moods are best kept to myself
Locked away and put up on a shelf
My mind often wanders to dreary places
It goes back and forth in unsteady paces
I live in silent rooms full of dim light
Trying to cope with this senseless fright
It comes in silently on little cats’ feet
With a swiftness I can’t begin to defeat
The Winged Woman 