Prisoner´s Survival Tactics

Living in a world full of coldness
I couldn´t help but detach myself
From the world outside these walls
As I stand guard and hard
Clenching unto the remaining scraps of my being
Within my balled up fist
Losing all sense of what is right or wrong
Fighting countless of demons,
Being demoralized and epitomized,
Never forgetting to diminish
The consequences of me being chained. 

So, I won´t unleash all my pinned up venomous rage
On the caring few, who still stay true…

Prisons made an animal out of me
At the brink of losing my sanity,
At the brink of losing my stability
At the brink…at the brink…
Hanging on the edge off of a loosely brick.

Survival, truth be told
Is what this is for.
It´s what we´re all fighting for
In this cold prison world.

So, when my hand clenches this pen
Scribbling down whatever comes to my head
What you´re getting is another side of me
The one that can´t be shown here
In this cold, cold world
Where being compassionate and kind
Is a scent of weakness
To the hungry pack of wolves
That reside within this cold, cold world.

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