Picture courtesy of tifachan.deviantart.com
He squats in a corner
Amongst his own filth
Rats scuttle by
The odd one he did kill
But not any more
His only friends
He feeds them scraps
Until his time ends
Barely any light reaching him
In his cell
Four dirty walls greet him
Every morning in this hell
In the beginning he cried
For days on end
Screaming his innocence
Asking for defence
But beaten he was
For his insolence
By unseen faces
Eventually building up a tolerance
For six years now
He’s been in his gaol
For speaking out against corruption
Freedom now his holy graol
Tears run dry
None left to fall
Even his dreams now fade
He disobeyed the rules
He sleeps on a mattress
Infested by insects
No more does he notice
Their tiny little legs
His family dead he thinks
As he rots away in there
Does anyone notice
Or even care?
Lost so much weight
Skin and bones
Will anyone save him?
Take him home?
This lost human being
So very alone
Sleeps whilst others scream
Shout and moan
He was them once
Not anymore
He’s long forgotten
Why he’s there for…
* I originally wrote this for a writing app on Twitter in October 2012 so I thought I’d share it on here. I’ve changed the ending slightly as I felt there was more to tell. It is dedicated to all the innocent bystanders and people who would protect their own from corrupt governments and officials and those caught inbetween wars of the greedy, corrupt and evil. The forgotten ones.
Caliburnus Rises 
abichica
Jul 30, 2014
This is wow.. Brought tears to my eyes.. You are an amazing writer..
Darren Greenidge
Aug 1, 2014
Bless you, thank you for saying so. It makes it all worth it. I based this on a prisoner who wasn’t anything to do with a war but just got caught in the middle and was held captive for something like 6-7 years. It’s terrible what goes on out there.