One thought at a time, that’s how I process my self inflicted crime.
The bars in my head are made of the strongest steel, they don’t allow me to see reality and positivity I’m supposed to feel.
My hands are chained and have limited motion, I want to help others but I’m stuck in my own commotion.
I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been in here, I’m in hopes of finding my life once again without any fear.
I’m scared of coming back to this familiar cell, I have to fight each day, just for a new story to tell.
I want to be free, I want to be me. I want to finally walk, talk as if I weren’t consumed by my past.
I want the ability to smile and see my hope at last.