[poetry] Dark Prison

((While not my first dark poem, this is the first that I feel safe posting without anyone sending me to a psychiatrist for counseling.))

The air is still and raw,
And yet untold horrors gnaw
Away the broken mask of happiness,
Planting doubt, reaping sadness.

She views the world through tinted lenses,
Dark whispers and murmurs blind her senses.
But the darkness was but an illusion;
The black thoughts, the Devil's intrusion.

So she sits in the dark prison
Of her own mind, her own creation.
When will she wake from this nightmare of pain?
Or is this doorless chamber forever her fate?