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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #1427204
After 7 1/2 years in prison for a crime I didn't commit, I wrote this before my release.
Half Dead,
Between the lines,
I'm taking up space,
I'm a wasted life,
No one to trust and nothing to learn,
It's like being half dead, half burned.

I'm in a six by nine,
It's nine to ten,
such is the life for the living dead,
Day after day,
again and again,
I'm in a six by nine
And now it's 9:10

456 bricks
Build the walls around my cage,
51 half dead pricks
Rome with me in a silent rage,
1100 miles in the sticks,
The land lies that cursed my brain,
It's 0600 in a minute,
I'm half dead, not insane.

I'm walking
And breathing,
I'm talking
And Screaming,
But nothing is proof I exsist,
I'm fighting,
I'm lying,
And crying,
That Satan is laughing at me.

I sit in my bed
With no voice in my head,
My wounds have not bled,
It's "time" that I've wed.
This only means I'm not dreaming the dream
And it's true I have become half dead
(That's what God said)

This life I am forced
With concrete and steel,
A deputized worrior
for breaking my will,
I've got no way out,
I'm fed water and bread,
Life is twice
when you're half dead
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