This Christmas marks one year.

A lot has happened.

The leaves changed colors.

the sun rose and the sun set.

The moon was new and the moon was full;

All of which I was not able to see.

Temperatures fluctuated and holidays passed.

Family, friends, people got older.

Yet one thing remains.

I live in isolation; I stay here day after day.

Stuck with the same flavor, same people, same surroundings:

Metal bars, cold floors, dreary moods; angry, lonely faces.

No sun, no family.

The make me remove my forms of expression from my ears and face.

The make me shave when I am forced to be proper.

When I walk into the court room I am not even aloud to glance at my loved ones.

They watch me sit before the judge, knowing that anything he or she says will not be good.

I am depived of the physical contact from my family one needs to survive.

My freedom is pushed further and further away from me.

Every day I am forced to live with the pain that I caused.

My punishment is to remain.

This Christmas marks one year,

One year and counting.