Once again, the slab of concrete,

has become his bed

Has repeated this so often,

there are no tears left to shed

He checks for his feelings

but inside he just feels dead

He lives in the prison of his own demise

There will be no second chances

no one left to call

There are no bridges left

he has slowly burned them all

There is no one who believes him,

as they slowly watched him fall

He lives in the prison of his own demise

They took another photo

he looks older than the last

The looks they gave were cynical

They know too well his past

No longer makes excuses

Again the die is cast

He lives in the prison of his own demise

Has hours to kill till daybreak

a chance to reminisce

What day did he stop caring

if his life was that or ‘this’?

More…