It was comfortable,
Alone, in that dark place,
It was small, cramped,
But it was mine,
And mine alone,
I sunk into depths of my own mind,
Experiencing fears and hates I never imagined,
Memories locked away became clear,
and painful,
But it was mine,
And it made me,
The pain, the rage, the fear,
The regret,
It broke me in ways I never new possible,
And made new ones at it's leisure,
For this was my mind,
My own prison,
Alone and cold,
A torturer of myself,
Finding comfort in my own spiritual flagellation,
But it was mine,
And mine alone,
In solitude,
And I smiled