In a prison I live,

The bars are held by obsession,

Locked in with death,

I stare death directly in eyes,

Yet death will not bend or turn away,

The walls obsession just draws more near.

However, a single string of hope draws me out,

Thin as a spider’s web,

Yet labeled love.

With a strand I have hope,

With a strand I have away out,

With a strand I will find away home.

However, a change in wind,

A misstep of foot,

A wrong word,

To the cell I must return.

Because I know I won’t get too far.

To the bars of obsession I must feel their grip,

To the chattering of death’s mocking teeth,

To the knowing that I cannot live or die.

Oh what pain I must endure,

Laying bed of mistrust,

Covering myself blanket iniquity,

propping my head up in pillow of inadequacy,

Watching family pictures slowly fall off my walls.

I cannot help to ponder.

Does hope draw you out? Or does only make the prison walls thicker?

What is point of all this?

To walk on dry land to be shallow by the ocean.

To find a true love yet only get scornful eyes in return.

I lay wait for my resuce…

For hope I won’t look too anymore.