by Jesse B.
The prison within which
I am trapped is such that
the outside world would not
recognize it for the
penitentiary
that it is. The clever
façade of joy and mirth
imposed on would-be in-
mates lures all to their fi-
nal resting place -- my soul.
The tenets of my dark
religion require all
worshipers to abide
within the all-encom-
passing darkness. No es-
cape may be found from such
black torment -- hell of hells.
I bathe in the blood of
my ancestors while those
who came before me call
me back to their fold. A
horrible, violent
reckoning is coming --
crimson shall the streams flow.
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