Lost

I hold the compass in my hand, wishing the needle would no longer turn, ceaselessly spinning, endlessly turning until even the rose of winds becomes a blur and home is gone.

My mind whirs with fear of the unknown, unable to understand the descent of madness, the lack of breath in my mind even though my chest rises and falls, my lungs filled with air. I am drowning in circles as the needle continues to spin, leading me nowhere but further down into the whirlpool my mind creates.

My darkened gaze lingers on the blur of gold, wanting to find my way north, find my way home, to peace and relief, to not feel lost in my own mind as the compass whirs. Breathing yet drowning, sanity fading in the darkest nights, even when safe and tucked up in bed. My dreams a momentary relief only to wake and the nightmare begins again.

I grip the compass and will the needle to stop. "Take me home." I whisper. Tired of being lost, in the place, I should know best, tired of wondering when can I rest. My fingers scrabbling at the edge of reality, wishing for one to bleed into the other, seeking relief from the trappings within. Give me a hand and lead me home, out of the nightmares and out of the gloom.

Let reality become truth and the fear fade, let the smile on my mouth reach the glint of my eyes, let me dream and let me wake, not wishing to escape but face the day.