MUSINGS.. A collection of poetry

Seven years of confinement

A happy-go-lucky guy one day
And accused as criminal, the next;
His naive mind couldn't fathom
Why he breathed four seasons in the dirty cell.

From confusion to frustration,
His eyes slowly lost its glint of hope,
Another year in the unkempt prison,
Will justice be served? Will he be back home?

Melancholic clouds loomed over his head,
He spiralled down, deep in depression;
As he stayed woke, over three sixty nights
With a shattered, aching and hopeless heart.

A bellowing rage erupted within,
Filled him inside and engulfed him in;
Drove him to edge, questioned his sanity,
For the whole twelve months, swallowed his being..

His burnt core, laid as pallid ashes,
The rage gave way to wounds and gashes;
Another January, another December..
But justice was far, maybe blind and lost.

Beautiful face, was so long gone
There rather was, a ghastly skull, skin and bones;
The hope was dead, as was justice,
As the withering soul, survived a new year.

When freedom approached the stinky cell one day,
After seven, long years, finally calling him innocent,
The once happy, young man was now lost in grievance,
Far from carefree, far from innocent.
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