I have been here 860 days.
Everything staked on a final decision,
An illusion, a vivid vision
Of life and death,
And everything, or nothing in between.
Time is a ticking clock, continuously
Leaving behind the changing world outside.
I haven’t done anything wrong
I repeat to myself every day.
Every wretched day in this wretched place,
A place of life and death and everything, or nothing in between.
Thrown in with a language other than my own,
A steadfast barrier determined to keep me from reality;
Determined to keep me from sanity,
Because that would be no fun for them.
A life lived here is not far from grim
And horrid,
Filled with Death on the doorstep everyday.
He came to my bars once.
He said: Dear sir, for you haven’t done anything wrong!
I replied: Death, please tell me why?
And I begged him to end it.
To take my soul and heal it,
In a world no where near this.
A life full of bliss
Instead of anger, sadness, and despair.
Death listened to me cry, and continued on,
Ignoring my pleas for freedom.
For a life in captivity is worse than death.
And he would know better than any,
But my days have grown too many
And I am stuck.
Until the end of days here where I am bound to be forgotten.
Under the dirt and rocks, buried alive in silent solitude,
Where I will wither away into nothing.
A bitter nothing, all by myself.
Does anyone know I’m here?
My family and my friends, does anyone care?
Who has gone searching for this soul in disrepair?
Everything staked on a final decision.
The will to live, to give up for good,
Or the will to keep on trying?
Whichever it may be,
I’ll be here for a long while
In this purgatory frozen in time.
But in the times in which I am alone,
I must keep the aspect in my mind of home,
A connotation worlds better than this awful place
A silent sound, a bitter taste
Of freedom,
Long gone from my lips.
Never to reach them again.
All staked on a final decision
860 days overdue.