In the stillness of my cell,
I trace the lines of my past,
etched in the cold concrete walls,
each crack a memory, each shadow a regret.
The silence here is deafening,
a quiet that screams louder than any voice,
reminding me of the choices,
the paths I could have taken, but didn’t.
I think of the faces,
those I loved, those I hurt,
their eyes haunting me in the darkness,
their forgiveness a distant dream.
Time moves differently here,
each second a lifetime,
each heartbeat a reminder,
of the life I once had, now slipping away.
In this solitude, I find clarity,
a painful understanding of my own humanity,
the weight of my actions,
the hope for redemption, even in this final hour.
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