Poem freewrite

I run these catacombs.
Feet softly treading
On crinkled leaves and grass.
Sounds barely reaching audible levels,

My thoughts make these walls.
I bury faces here.
Even names fall dead like leaves
Just a way to get by.

Sometimes I get lost,
Free-roaming through
The vast corridors
Of memories
Of oft forgotten lullabies
Of earlier and younger times
Where I did not have this edge.
I scream
I shout
I scratch and fight for a way out.

I slowly trudge through
Only to find my heart
Entangled in thorns and thistles
Between the cages of my ribs
Like graves marking different
Times I’ve fallen.

Can I bury it?
Can I put to rest
The very thing
that keeps this blood
Coursing through my veins?

Oh for a touch of light,
Some kind of succor
From this grave digging.
I will lift my eyes unto
The hills,
Out of these walls
these catacombs
To see where my help comes from

“Oh God save me from myself”