With cardboard walls on either side,
I lay down to rest.
My soul lies to one side,
My dignity on the other.
I must shield myself against the cold.
Closing the paper flaps closed,
Wind whips them open,
Sputtering and happy to be free.
But I will not allow it.
I yank at the suicidal doors
And anchor them closed.
My cardboard home has turned to lead.
It’s not enough to be reassured that
The bomb won’t explode again.
But it will at any moment in time.
It’s happened before and I will never fall again.
Love, hope, happiness, laughter, and comfort
Float just outside my woven shelter, calling to me.
But my soul and dignity that was ripped out of
My body long ago keeps me from
Unlocking the doors to the outside.
I peer out of the peephole I created,
Looking down at the innocent and open souls,
Just waiting to be damaged or annihilated.
I look down at my chest where I wear a hole
Where something once was.
Its scarred remnants lay on a gasoline-doused
Cot beside me now.
The open souls try to coax me out of my sanctuary,
But my ears are too clogged to hear anything.
Now I lie down beside the loose bolt
That was once part of a complete machine,
Clutching it to my chest to try to repair myself,
But it doesn’t work.
Only opening the doors of the asylum I constructed
Will heal it.
Time means nothing in this imaginary nuclear war
I created.
Lying down, I unlock the doors.
My dreamland is the only world where I’m safe.
Until the burning sun signifies another nightmare to begin.