From this prison noises rise
Into the darkened, clouded skies
And as my throat bleeds from his shout
All the lights begin to go out.
Curled and shaking on a cot
His sanity begins a long, slow rot.
Downing pills on a dragon chase
No more emotion on his face.
It was the hard parts in his life
That led him to escape his strife.
And now alone he sits and waits
Brooding over that which he hates.
A prison isn't for those who break the law
It's the dark behind his gaping maw.
It's the emptiness inside his yell
It's the open gates of hell.
Prison cells and empty halls
Filled with echoing footfalls
Rattling ghosts that circle round
Hoping to be heaven bound.
He found this place wandering lost
Abandoned, gathering late Autumn frost
Deep inside he lost his nerve
When the drugs made the world swerve.
In the corner of the room
Surrounded by his intense gloom
Walls dripping, running; intense flood
Thick, black water like prison's blood.
He looked around and called it home
No more would he aimlessly roam
A final escape from misery
Into the dark where he won't see.
Blind eye looking for no hope
Making friends with bits of rope
A collection gathered to leave behind
A world that slowly took his mind.
On the wall it's slowly scratched
An idea that he had hatched
A novel written in a day
To describe there was no other way
A holy place, this dismal spot
The walls streaming his sordid plot
An attempt at life long left alone
Protected from the outside by steel and stone
Deep within this prison stays
A man who screams as he acts out plays
Characters inside his head
Company after his sanity fled.
There is a soul, lost but free
That identifies that man as me.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
From this prison noises rise
Into the darkened, clouded skies
And as my throat bleeds from his shout
All the lights begin to go out.
Curled and shaking on a cot
His sanity begins a long, slow rot.
Downing pills on a dragon chase
No more emotion on his face.
It was the hard parts in his life
That led him to escape his strife.
And now alone he sits and waits
Brooding over that which he hates.
A prison isn't for those who break the law
It's the dark behind his gaping maw.
It's the emptiness inside his yell
It's the open gates of hell.
Prison cells and empty halls
Filled with echoing footfalls
Rattling ghosts that circle round
Hoping to be heaven bound.
He found this place wandering lost
Abandoned, gathering late Autumn frost
Deep inside he lost his nerve
When the drugs made the world swerve.
In the corner of the room
Surrounded by his intense gloom
Walls dripping, running; intense flood
Thick, black water like prison's blood.
He looked around and called it home
No more would he aimlessly roam
A final escape from misery
Into the dark where he won't see.
Blind eye looking for no hope
Making friends with bits of rope
A collection gathered to leave behind
A world that slowly took his mind.
On the wall it's slowly scratched
An idea that he had hatched
A novel written in a day
To describe there was no other way
A holy place, this dismal spot
The walls streaming his sordid plot
An attempt at life long left alone
Protected from the outside by steel and stone
Deep within this prison stays
A man who screams as he acts out plays
Characters inside his head
Company after his sanity fled.
There is a soul, lost but free
That identifies that man as me.
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