Subconcious prison

Thy pain is great and wounding, staring at the rain.
Yet none shall know of such a powerful woe,
That which cripples one's heart.
For hide it you will, with your powerful will.
Thy will ever endure the torturer,
His skill cunningly great.
Funny that ne'er there be such a talented foe,
As that which one's own mind will create.
Thy mind becomes the prison,
From which one is trapped within.
Yet try as one might,
Thy sorrow will keep thee within.
But thy cries can be heard,
If one were willing to speak.
For friends there be, with caring hearts,
Willing to listen to thee.
Just call to them, those gentle folk,
Through iron bars and sheets of rain.
And say to them: Hey friend,
Will you help me search for the key?