Dying in My own Prison

Lost and wandering, no place to go.
All around I see nothing but darkness.
Bound by the chains you’ve put on me.
Water drips from the ceiling above me.
Slowly, it drips on the cold concrete;
infested with rats and roaches. Through
the darkness I can see the silhouette of the
walls. Moss grows on the surface
of the old bricks. I sit in the corner wondering
how someone could do this to me.

I’m dirty, and dying in my own prison.
Trapped inside my head. I can’t escape
these dreams.
I’m trapped inside my own mind, and these
deserted halls are showing no signs of escape.

My head’s about to explode and you just sit there
and laugh I hope you’re happy with the pain
you’ve caused. A pulsating feeling of death courses
through my body. My breath escapes me.
A light breaks through the small window.

The wind whistles outside, whipping the trees
against the cell blocks.

It echoes through the depths of my mind.
I’m lost wandering, alone, and close to death.
There is a small glimmer of light at the end of the
corridor. As I stumble down, I caution for anything
that might be lurking in the darkness. My journey
has come to an end.

I’ve been dying in my own prison,
trapped within the confines of my own
mind.

Lost and wandering with no place to go. No place
to go but away.