7/19.2026 for Hymn Of The Heart Poetry Contest sponsored by Hiya Sharma
In a prison cell that fairly reeked I heard the song my soul never seeked, an eternal, sorrowful lament encircled by rats, steel and cement. Freedom or hope could never emerge, just a woeful, wailing dirge. Once, you held the golden key, but said your love was not for me, condemning me to this lonely cell, a strangely cold and desolate hell. Now that I've lived my last sad day, my heart and soul, wasted away. Dear lady, I leave you just this scrawl written on a prison wall.
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