Locked Up

Locked up.
Stuck.
Captured.
What is captured, you ask?
My world.
My thoughts, and feelings.
My love for myself.
My hopes and dreams.
All of it, held hostage.

It's all held hostage by not being.
Being accepted, and pressured.
Not pressured by drugs and such.
Not pressured by sex or lust.
Pressured by my own world.
Pressured by my own life.
Pressured by my own worries.

It is honestly lonely.
How is pressure lonely?
It is because I don't have anyone there.
Anyone to help hold this pressure up.
My shoulders, they aren't broad or strong enough.

Wait.
What am I doing?

I'm tired.
Tired of living this way.
Stuck, Captured, and Locked up.
My heart, shoudlers, and hands are tired.
Tired of holding that rock, or the umbrealla in the calm of the storm.

I'm just a little lost, but I will eventually get there.
Why? How?
With you next to me.