Inmate number XXX

The blood wants to escape this skin

The soul wants far away to run

The heart is bleeding in the hall

Between the memories and dreams.

Left alone, bruised and deceived

Grabbing random things for balance

Barely breathing, barely knowing

What’s behind this scarred old face.

Maybe it’s me that won’t let me

Feel the spring outside the cage

Maybe it’s me that brings upon me

Shadows, bruises, cloudy rains.

Tired of thinking, tired of speaking

Stuck in this bad movie scene

Counting seconds, counting hours

To the day when I won’t feel

All the hurting and the pain

That grip me beyond escape.

Screaming inside in mad rage

Not able to move or speak

Looking for a way to end

The pain that runs just too deep.

Tears are yesterday’s companions

For today my being’s dry

Depleted of hope or answers

To the ‘who’s, the ‘where’s and ‘why’s.

Stepping on my fragile bones

Everybody’s keen on knowing

Why the words all went away

To a place  with ‘no disturbing’

Signs that hang on closed up doors.

Locks are tight and rusty even

Paint is dripping from the walls

The whole scene is slowly turning

Into an old prison hall

Where the inmate is but one

One poor bastard tightly locked

Away from the ‘caring’ world

From the ‘who’s, the ‘why’s and ‘where’s.

No one’s knocking

Yet the noise

Slowly maddens our old inmate

For it’s been way, way too long

Since the screams have been all written

With red blood upon the walls

Of his wrecked and tired being.

Closing eyes won’t help you much

You self pitying, loathing prisoner

It won’t end, it won’t get easy

It won’t bring a healing touch.

It’s just darkness, plain and simple

Darkness, silence and the hurt

That’s put you here in your condition

Bruised alone with that dumb smirk.

No, those eyes just closing

Won’t do you an ounce of good

Nor will it bring you salvation

From the images that burn

The marks of time in your chest.

Wait, that’s all you have to do damn inmate

Wait, forget and try again

To unlock the doors that keep you

Away from the dancing world

So you might again be freed

From the bruises, hurt and pains

That put you in this dark hole

But what if ‘memory remains’?

Stupid ignorant fool prisoner

Take your cheap belongings. Here!

Take your petty pains and bruises

And complain to someone else

Who might maybe understand

Your babbling and lame concerns.

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