The sight of jail is beyond frightening.
It's locked doors.
It's watching guards tear our your freedom as if it's nothing.
It's blue outfits you're forced upon your will to wear.
The smell of jail is the smell of the girl ******* her insides out.
It's the smell of half cooked meat, but hey at least it's food.
And it's the smell of musty deodorant.
The sound of jail is the sound of T.V.
It's people yelling.
Guards screaming at you.
The feel of jail is cold sheets and a mattress just a titch too hard to sleep on.
It's the feeling of isolation and depression seeping in.
It's the not so quiet feeling of sadness.
The taste of jail is lemonade that's ever so sour and gross.
It's the taste of blood because you keep biting your nails.
And lastly, it's the taste of your own fingernails. Because it's the only thing you can do to pass the 17 hours you have all 4 lights on.