Wise sound

Last night was worse.

Had to walk every 15 minutes.

Not sure if the pain or the frost hurt more.


Slipped into a deep, black hole every now and then.

The pain in the bruises or the shivering woke me up.

When the guard pushed me, it felt like I’d slept a week.


Locked that bed straight up and left.

They don’t talk down here.

“How long?”


Some comrades came back after a week, some later.

They all looked like crap afterwards.

Some changed.


I won’t!


Need to find something to do, need to use my brain.


Head still hurts from that bump against the grid.

A warm shower would be nice.

Dry clothes.


Singing might help.

Trying to remember songs.

I just got one, one single song is left.


“...Bitter words mean little to me

Autumn winds will blow right through me

And someday in the mist of time

When they asked me if I knew you

I'd smile and say you were a friend of mine

And the sadness would be lifted from my eyes…"


Wondering what it sounds like outside the cell.