My heart is crumbling into dust, not pieces.
There is no reconstructing the damage.
I’m bleeding.
I want redemption for my penance,
As the lost seek Divine forgiveness.
Hope is all I have,
And it’s a fine thread from heaven.
Despair is a razor rendering the cord unwoven.
I’m on borrowed time, with an impossible interest rate,
In fear of having the loan called in.
I grow weary from all this prison life,
So, I’m going to sleep.
Perhaps tomorrow I’ll try again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.  Darrell has contributed several pieces to this site and continues to write.  He wrote this piece not long ago, shortly after a friend of his lost his life inside his cell.

Darrell Sharpe #W80709
P.O. Box 43
Norfolk, MA 02056