Freedom Trampled Underfoot

Freedom Trampled Underfoot 2/2/2008 My thoughts are like a shallow grave. As I sit here and rot, my conscience begins to waver, I feel my soul begin to wilt. Oh, woe to those who feel the depths of my calamity. Cursed are they who fuel the fire of this infernal system. Black-hearted are the beasts who stalk the halls, That prey on the weak and feeble-minded, The forlorn and the forgotten. Rancid and foul is my predicament, my plight. Brought on by no less than my own hand, A mistake much regretted, causing much remorse. Oh, hellish place, damn thee to hell! May I never darken the walls of your prison again! -Written while incarcerated in VCSD Jail.