Note: This was written inside a prison cell.

Outside in the world there are meetings. Outside in the world there are parties, people laughing. There are businesses crunching numbers, vehicles hauling goods, relationships being made, funerals being held, children being raised, wars going on. Outside are large monumental buildings being raised from the earth, rides on the roads with singing and song, beautiful moments of dance between loved ones, a couple enjoying, the nature of life on some quiet scenery listening to birds. People bustle, people play.

And what of I? Only thought on my mind is when I will next receive a small bag of chips and noodles. Only thing I see is a small little cell. Slowly progressing in the learning of one language. Studying the small books of various religion. Indulging myself in the small books of novel of which is a non existent world.

How can I reach out in the world, with such small amounts of resources? How can I control my life and bend a situation to my will, from a cave?

I stare out the window at the world, all the progress, passing by before my eyes, and yet I cannot reach out.

What can I do? Am I to remain useless for as long as the corrupt justice system wishes to retain me? The one man, my lawyer, only one able to get me out and yet refuses to visit, to explain anything?

Oh the months of waste does good to wake up one’s soul but held too long will just be put back to sleep. How can I bend my destiny? When will I rejoin the flow of the waters?

In a building where people fight over a shower, where people will kill for a small container of milk. How pathetic where each week is spent entirely dreaming about a small bag of junk food?

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[Image above: Attributed to: by Shelby Steward]