This so-called life,

is nothing more

than a death-sentance cell.

Too many years,

have I sat on this row,

alone, outcast, lonely.

I open this heart,

always there for others,

yet, no one is there for me.

I'm always there,


yet mine remain weighted down.

Every time I reach out,

every time I open up,

doors slam shut on my face.

My cries go unheard,

my tears go unwiped,

my pleas go unanswered.

Everything I touch,

everything I attempt, fails.

My silver linings tarnish to gray.

I speak volumes,

that fall upon deafened ears.

For no one cares to listen.

And so I must move on,

for the next plateau awaits me.

That of yet another, solitary confinement.

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