Penitentiary

Prison strips you of all you have to take, and traps you in a place of timeless space…

It strips you of your memories yet leaves you nothing but;

It strips you of your drive yet leaves you the desires of your mind;

It strips you of the freedom to be who you really are, and leaves you a mindless number trying to survive as a shadow on the wall of stolen pride;

It strips you of your human dignity and leaves you with degradation as your daily bread–my, that’s a book that’s been well-read as I creep along the Halls of Dread…

In this place of timeless space, I put my past away, like closing a book after folding down the page…

All you have left is the pain of your experience, yet you cant clearly remember all the times, faces, or the places that made you so serious;

It left me my talent but made me forget how vital it was to my existance–memories like a drop of rain falling into the mist, so much is fading, and to top it all, the pen is ripped from the artists’ grip, like a branch from a tree’s drooping limb, no way of communicating…

Looking through the glass darkly, your blinded by your suffering–you cant remember the love that made you it’s all, nor recall the arms that would lift you when you’d fall;

Happy memories–oh, how you used to smile–stolen by the thief within barbed wire, too painful to remember now that you exist alone within a patch of briar;

You cant see life’s beauty, and forget that Godhas blessed you truly…

You exist within the stagnancy–a year can be contained in a day and eternity in a year, or it can all pass you by, like a mad train on the track to a place where time is meaningless and your content despite your lack…

It’s a place where your personal space is reduced to the top bunk in your cell, but sometimes your unlucky and dont even have a room to escape the hell–you cant cry because of prying eyes, chaos reigns to distract from pain, and your sleep is haunted by your fucks and the fights, and let us not forget your brother’s sorry plight, as well as the yells coming from your neighbor’s cell;

All your morals and your views go with your clothing and your jewels, off to the property room;

Your individuality is left at the gate, and to survive you must yourself deny and recreate–but who knows if from the web of lies you’ll recuperate in time?

Sensory deprivation and humiliation is their game, but the one thing they cant take away is the depression, like a virus in the brain, eating your sanity like a candy cane–at the end of the decade you’ll grow fond of your misery, and your god will be inflicting pain as your release…

It is a place where love is turned into a comic travesty–“My life, Your entertainment” is scored onto the rusted locker door–yet you need the delusions to survive the tragic story of your life–though it corrupts you at the core and turns living into a chore…my existence is such a bore…

Prison is filled with broken souls…

It strips away the societal mask and leaves the anarchist bare, showing the pure hearts of those that shouldn’t be there, as well as the dark hearts to whom Justice was fair;

Prison shows your true colors as well as teaches one to be fake, flaw, and phony to all that one meets–

I’ve loved the best;

I’ve befriended the worst;

And lost myself as well as found what I’m made of upon this ground…