MENTAL PRISON

Cages of thoughts are decorated in the prison of my mind. The souls of my thoughts are the inmates of that prison. Each weaves their own story. Some proudly paint themselves as the villains in the mental portrait of their story, while others try to expose their innocence. These inmates, guilty (read evil) or innocent (read angel), are the ones sitting behind the steering wheel and driving the car of my involuntary or voluntary actions. I am urged by them, driven by them. Sometimes the evil and diabolical ones make me to do even more evil things. I follow them blindly. They take me to the edge of the cliff and reward me with their little push. I free fall, free fall in the abyss of pain and misery. But then, I gather my valour and realise that I am the master of my own self, I am the warden of the prison in which they live and thrive. I call my angel inmates and plead them to take the charge. They come with their open wings and helpful heart. They catch me and then we land together on the safe surface of my conscience. I shower my gratitude on their invisible and non-existent bodies, and imprison them again. This is how I operate my mental prison. This is how everyone tries to operate theirs, though they are oblivious of the fact that they have constructed a prison of this sort in their mind, but they have, everyone has. This is the prison constructed by the holy hands of evolution, this is the prison occupied by the inmates chosen by us, and this is the prison that demands administration. And one who does not administer it well gets locked up in a prison, tangible or intangible, of real life.