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A Final Letter from the Dark Haired Prisoner in Cell Three, dated 421 A.D.

Frozen stone walls,

cracked and aging.

Floors of dirt,

forever waiting.

 

Cold steel bars,

rusted and corroding.

Last bit of hope,

slowly fading.

 

They tell me hell is waiting for me,

they say that there's a welcoming party.

They laugh and they cry,

as they spit in my eyes,

whittling crosses out of wood,

they're what He despises.

 

I sit here, slowly dying,

waiting for death to set me free,

hanging noose waits in the gallows for me.

Day after day,

after day,

after day.

 

They cry and they die,

from unknown diseases.

Condemning each other,

when somebody wheezes.

 

Now He hates what he has created,

so he's trying to destroy the Earth to save it.

I'm not the villain,

I'm not here to sin,

I'm here to save what's left,

of his His once great creation.

 

I sit here, slowly dying,

waiting for death to set me free,

hanging noose waits in the gallows for me.

Day after day,

after day,

after day.

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Written by
barry-pietrantonio
30 / M / American
Published
Aug 25, 2013
Lines·Words
36·164
Notes

Copyright Barry Pietrantonio

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