My body has fallen upon me like a prison of pain, and
I am, forever, chained to that pain by a flickering of faith.
Has my fate been sealed by my tears that run like the wax of a candle unheard, and along with that silence, the only door that answers.
At times it seems there are no windows, and that the darkness of the pain is swallowing me up.
I pray, but to what end will light find its way through a window that has been closed to hope?
Am I such a person, of a sentence to life without parole?
Is there no innocence in me, that my cries remain unheard?
Yet I have been found guilty, and left unprotected to be plundered by those sworn to hold a shield in my favor.
But who am I to judge? Even I can't look myself in the mirror
For when I do, I too have to live with what I see.
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