Stone walls do not a prison make,
nor flesh and bone a cage.
Sentenced to a greuling fate,
by a signature on a page.

Stuck in these poor thin walls,
a prison made of life.
So easy to tear, easy to escape,
to end it with a knife.

Mobbed with emotions,
and brought low with need.
Robbed of quiet peace,
feelings cut and bleed.

Don't want to live life,
it doesn't want to bend.
I just pray for the time,
when it comes to the end.

06/20/2002

Posted on 06/20/2002
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