Etched in the wall
of my very own cell
are some faded words
from some ancient hell.
Dried blood and tears
stain the dry wood
and words won’t leave
even when they should.
Some soul before mine
was trapped in this cage
and someday this story
will make it to page.
But now is not the time
for such simple things
when we both know
the kind of hell she brings.
Autumn Siders 