My life has stopped, and I have become a broken spirit, and lost mind. I have found my way once again back home. Solitude has become my only friend. Hundreds of hours of renewal that collapse in seconds. Eyes piercing my every action. The walls are broken; the single light bulb has become my everyday sun and moon. The phones are off the hook. I don’t want to live here. The food is garbage and what they say about everyone’s individuality has been forgotten here. These souls have become their own ticking time bomb. The world has gotten over who I am, and I sit here bent with my arms supporting my head. My cell block becomes my world, and my identity stolen. All I can see are the images that dance around the cells with every echo reliving itself as much as it can. I’ve messed up once again, and put away in this black sell.