No cells walls will ever feel nearly as embracing,
as those built by the hands of the accused.
Share this, what better hands are to be used?
Besides those whose thoughts spend a lifetime wasting.

You spend years stuck between lost and chasing,
and from your own thoughts, you have been abused.
Tell me, how long how you been so confused,
as to who you are and what rules you are defacing?

Freedom cannot soar in the walls of a cell,
neither may liberty ring against concrete,
nor justice will smile down upon killers.
You have buried yourself into this personal hell,
and nevermore will you walk freely down the street.
No, not until you force your way between these thin pillars.