What to do?

I can't help but fall back 
on my sluggish ways
They seem to rise up 
and lock me away
In a cold dank room
that smells of defeat 
It blocks out the sun
from shining its hope 

But my poems break free
and show me the path
They illuminate the dark
when I can't see
My words are my strength 
my rhythm my shield
But I fear it may not be enough
to free me from hell

So do I stay in this prison?
or break free from its grasp
Should I just give up 
or keep on walking instead
Do I live on my knees?
or die on my feet
Its my life 
and I do as I damn well please