Photo by Echo Grid on Unsplash

I live in a world
Surrounded by monsters.
Broken men.
Trapped behind barbed wire.
Imprisoned by cold concrete.
Nameless faces passing.
“‘How are you?”
Though the answer is known.
We are the Dead.
The lost and alone.
Wolves in sheep skin.
Sheep in wolves.
Another endless day
As loved ones pass away,
And forget our names.
I’m not alone.
Yet, I’m dying for a friend.
One day I’ll be free.
Can’t say that for many
Some will die in this place.
This house of pain.
Their ghosts to roam
Dark halls.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.

Ian Shaw

Ian Shaw is a writer of morbid/horror poetry and short stories and is currently working on self-publishing a collection of his writings. He is incarcerated at in California, and is publishing under a pen name because he feels that his incarceration hurts his chances of being a successful writer.