So cold and driven to be your own master.
Locked in a prison of denial from inside your cell.
You stand alone wrapped in comforting misery.
Even if someone were to toss freedom into your hands
you would let the gift slip through your fingers
like soap lost in dirty, grey bathwater.
Surely, you need no one’s help.
You bask in your own glow,
You can rescue yourself when you choose to do so.
Not able to see the oddness of this
becomes a poison that will leave
An empty shell with hollow eyes
more myopic than before.
An army of one.
From Belinda's Five Word Monologue words: