Lock and Key

I sometimes feel as though there is no escape. The locks on the doors are to keep me in, unsocial, out of place, hiding from grace. I can't find the key. Is it even worth it anyway? I look down at my palm, ink stains line my thumb. My mind is a deep hole. Words are hard to find. My heart is a book, a book that's hard to comprehend. The pages scribbled on, torn out, with ink smeared here and there. I see an open window, do I dare? The light is shining through, beams of light shattering the vase my mom has placed on the table and setting the floor on fire. My hands rest on the windowsill, staring out at the green grass, the children playing in their backyards, sprinklers watering the lawns. I lean my head forward, breathe in the clean, fresh air. I hear birds, a lawnmower somewhere within a block of my house and children laughing and screaming. I fight to lift one foot up but strength is hard to find. My body is weak and a voice is saying "Stay inside. No one likes you. You'll be just fine on your own." I continue forcing my leg on the windowsill, eventually both feet are solidly resting there, preparing to jump into the air. I catapult myself into the sky, feeling myself fly. I'm soaring, this is where I want to be. The voice inside my head has lost-I have won. I have overcome. I have overcome. I can overcome anything. With him by my side, my options are wide. I grab my book and pen, smile and hand it to him. My life story? The words of my heart? God has them now. I'm getting a clean start.