The death of Me! Im stuck here sometimes…
My shackles are getting a little rusty, but my strength isnt at its peak.
How long must i be a prisoner? as long as i allow it…
Jumping over the fence and thudding on to the ground below, she stood up quickly and began to move in an all-out spring, putting as much distance between herself and him as possible. The exhilaration of being free and the fear of being recaptured filled her veins with adrenaline as she pushed forward towards the darkening woods.
Abster
I am a prisoner in my own home. I can’t leave when I want. I can’t eat when I want. I can’t even sleep when I want. My parental units control everything I do, and it completely and totally sucks.
Kristen
If I wanted to escape, I could. Nothing’s really stopping me from doing such a thing.
But every time I start to walk away, I wonder if anyone would miss me?
Would they remember me? Would they care at all if I left?
And then I think. . .
At least If I’m here. . .
I’m still alive.
I still exist.
I matter.
Mind is not that which tries to keep us whole
Though minds keep us inside concrete walls with iron bars
That clang when we lash out in shivering fear
Body is that which keeps us on the ground, imprisoned
When soul explores the possibilities, in Phoenix form, of heaven
Body stands, wandering lost worlds,
Whether minds roams, or are intact at all
Trapped in a pit of despair– the moral dilemma was one of his own making. Raking his hands through his hair, he thought again of how he’d failed her, and lamented the possibilities of trying again.
Beth
Of our own mind
Or in fear
The hinders you from taking any great
Leap
It’s just easier to stay
To lie in that cot
I peer out into the world
To wonder what might have been
I blame others for your action
Or in action
Time spent in a cell of comfortability and ease
A small life
Lauren
“You comfy there, Miss?” the guard sneered through the large black bars. Evelyn swallowed, and held her chin high, trying to feign courage she didn’t feel. “Sure, it’s better than the Ritz-Carlton,” she said with smirk she didn’t feel.
And I’m held prisoner by my own inhibitions. I’m a captive of my own creation. I sit guarded by the four walls I built so nothing can ever get in and hurt me but slowly I begin to realize that I can’t seem to escape these four walls either.
Blue
orange is the new black-new perspective about the war on drugs……….am I done writing now. What do I do when I’m done writing……..do I just keep writing?
Lisa
I’m a prisoner in my mind. Of my ideas. It’s simple because It’S just about us. If we were free, that would mean that we were genuis – or crazy. We lost our chance by being normal. And it’s our biggest gift.
Jarvis
The prisoner looked out the bars of his cell. Forming a plan in his mind he found that time was of the essence. The sequence of the events would have to go exactly as he had planned it. But he needed an accomplice. He turned to Mac, his cell mate.
charlie card
When you are a prisoner it means you are TRAPPED, when youre trapped you can be GUILTY,LONELY,SORRY, or anything. It all depends on what you have done.
tman2001
My dad worked for 30 years at the FCI facility in Butner. First as electrician then as a computer/systems specialist. He still knows almost next to nothing about computers but he got to come home at the end of the day everyday and that was important for a growing boy.
There was a prisoner who could see a little shining spot. It was blue.
emily roubini
There was always a sense of tomorrow beyond the walls, a sense of expanse, but never a glimpse. He instead stood on the little balcony, staring across the grounds, staring to the top edge of the wall. It had been constructed exactly so the prisoner could not see over the top.
I used to see all the world, he thought. And now I can only see a few yards in front of me.
He could not speak freely. He could not express how he felt. He could not turn his head without finding eyes upon him. Even though no walls confined him, he was still a prisoner.
She was a prisoner in her own home. Her panic attacks started as soon as she stepped out of the door and out of her comfort zone. How on earth could she control them.
Prisoner was killed by that woman. She sticked her stilettos int his eyes. Slowly but will the end, whole 14cm into his head straight into brain.
Mat
She was a prisoner in her own house. The strife was constant, yet she could find no way to escape. She valued harmony, but the rest of the household did not, so she was always in the crossfire. Every day there was a hail of emotional bullets, and she was the target.
The prisoner laughed. He always laughed when he saw the guards. He was the only one in the prison that was free. Free of responsibilities, free of worries. He knew what was expected of him and what his day would hold, just as it had for the last twenty years.
David Peterson
The lights are on. Everybody is eating. Nobody is alone. But, just in this time, why my window is locked? I would like to see the sunrise one more time…
Guilherme ABC Ishie
I am a prisoner of desire. It rules me. Especially in the morning, when my energy is high. I cannot control my impulse. I have to do it even though I know it’s disaster in the making. What do I need to do to
Russ
we are the prisoner of our own world. world whose bricks are made of a dream, notion, aspiration, frustration, desire and acceptance. the day we break free from our own world we are free in the true sense
Shraboni
He thought there had to be way out. He looked around for the loose bars, shaky bricks he’d seen in TV films, but there were none to be found.
Jeremy Rowse
To be a prisoner of light…that is something that no one ever told me how to survive. Sure, everyone said “Don’t get caught,” but I’m the idiot daemon who let my little sister live after she tried to assassinate me with a crystal cup and and a hypnotized human. I’m an anomaly, a wretched excuse for a creature of darkness, and it serves me right I fell into a trap I can never escape.
He had built his bars well, bars of skull-bone and brain, to keep me in. His trickery kept me there, in a cell that created from my own head; a mobile prison that kept me always inside its lock.
Lauren
The prisoner was held in the trunk of the dark man’s car until they arrived at the house on the beach. He could hear the ocean between his cries for help and the bang bang bang of him kicking the car.
Escaping with a twinkle in my eye.
I don’t deserve this, no one does.
To be accused, and wrongfully convicted,
what a waste of time, I have kids to care for.
I’m doing it for you, Julissa, Michael and Phil.
My little angels, I hope you’re well.
Fear held her prisoner for years. She was used to looking out at the world with a somewhat damaged psyche. Trust did not come easy. Usually it never came. It was for all these reasons and more that she found herself lost in a sea of people. She smiled and made idle chit chat, but no-one ever knew the true Daphine. She doubted anyone ever would.
The death of Me! Im stuck here sometimes…
My shackles are getting a little rusty, but my strength isnt at its peak.
How long must i be a prisoner? as long as i allow it…
i’m bound to you
but not weighed down
like if you were to start flying
i know
you’re taking me with you
My crimes float like lint in the taunting light from a high window.
Jumping over the fence and thudding on to the ground below, she stood up quickly and began to move in an all-out spring, putting as much distance between herself and him as possible. The exhilaration of being free and the fear of being recaptured filled her veins with adrenaline as she pushed forward towards the darkening woods.
I am a prisoner in my own home. I can’t leave when I want. I can’t eat when I want. I can’t even sleep when I want. My parental units control everything I do, and it completely and totally sucks.
If I wanted to escape, I could. Nothing’s really stopping me from doing such a thing.
But every time I start to walk away, I wonder if anyone would miss me?
Would they remember me? Would they care at all if I left?
And then I think. . .
At least If I’m here. . .
I’m still alive.
I still exist.
I matter.
Mind is not that which tries to keep us whole
Though minds keep us inside concrete walls with iron bars
That clang when we lash out in shivering fear
Body is that which keeps us on the ground, imprisoned
When soul explores the possibilities, in Phoenix form, of heaven
Body stands, wandering lost worlds,
Whether minds roams, or are intact at all
Trapped in a pit of despair– the moral dilemma was one of his own making. Raking his hands through his hair, he thought again of how he’d failed her, and lamented the possibilities of trying again.
Of our own mind
Or in fear
The hinders you from taking any great
Leap
It’s just easier to stay
To lie in that cot
I peer out into the world
To wonder what might have been
I blame others for your action
Or in action
Time spent in a cell of comfortability and ease
A small life
“You comfy there, Miss?” the guard sneered through the large black bars. Evelyn swallowed, and held her chin high, trying to feign courage she didn’t feel. “Sure, it’s better than the Ritz-Carlton,” she said with smirk she didn’t feel.
And I’m held prisoner by my own inhibitions. I’m a captive of my own creation. I sit guarded by the four walls I built so nothing can ever get in and hurt me but slowly I begin to realize that I can’t seem to escape these four walls either.
orange is the new black-new perspective about the war on drugs……….am I done writing now. What do I do when I’m done writing……..do I just keep writing?
I’m a prisoner in my mind. Of my ideas. It’s simple because It’S just about us. If we were free, that would mean that we were genuis – or crazy. We lost our chance by being normal. And it’s our biggest gift.
The prisoner looked out the bars of his cell. Forming a plan in his mind he found that time was of the essence. The sequence of the events would have to go exactly as he had planned it. But he needed an accomplice. He turned to Mac, his cell mate.
When you are a prisoner it means you are TRAPPED, when youre trapped you can be GUILTY,LONELY,SORRY, or anything. It all depends on what you have done.
My dad worked for 30 years at the FCI facility in Butner. First as electrician then as a computer/systems specialist. He still knows almost next to nothing about computers but he got to come home at the end of the day everyday and that was important for a growing boy.
There was a prisoner who could see a little shining spot. It was blue.
There was always a sense of tomorrow beyond the walls, a sense of expanse, but never a glimpse. He instead stood on the little balcony, staring across the grounds, staring to the top edge of the wall. It had been constructed exactly so the prisoner could not see over the top.
I used to see all the world, he thought. And now I can only see a few yards in front of me.
He could not speak freely. He could not express how he felt. He could not turn his head without finding eyes upon him. Even though no walls confined him, he was still a prisoner.
She was a prisoner in her own home. Her panic attacks started as soon as she stepped out of the door and out of her comfort zone. How on earth could she control them.
Prisoner was killed by that woman. She sticked her stilettos int his eyes. Slowly but will the end, whole 14cm into his head straight into brain.
She was a prisoner in her own house. The strife was constant, yet she could find no way to escape. She valued harmony, but the rest of the household did not, so she was always in the crossfire. Every day there was a hail of emotional bullets, and she was the target.
she held me against my will – not with bars or locks or chains, but with her smell, her warmth, her limbs, eyes and pussy…
The prisoner laughed. He always laughed when he saw the guards. He was the only one in the prison that was free. Free of responsibilities, free of worries. He knew what was expected of him and what his day would hold, just as it had for the last twenty years.
The lights are on. Everybody is eating. Nobody is alone. But, just in this time, why my window is locked? I would like to see the sunrise one more time…
I am a prisoner of desire. It rules me. Especially in the morning, when my energy is high. I cannot control my impulse. I have to do it even though I know it’s disaster in the making. What do I need to do to
we are the prisoner of our own world. world whose bricks are made of a dream, notion, aspiration, frustration, desire and acceptance. the day we break free from our own world we are free in the true sense
He thought there had to be way out. He looked around for the loose bars, shaky bricks he’d seen in TV films, but there were none to be found.
To be a prisoner of light…that is something that no one ever told me how to survive. Sure, everyone said “Don’t get caught,” but I’m the idiot daemon who let my little sister live after she tried to assassinate me with a crystal cup and and a hypnotized human. I’m an anomaly, a wretched excuse for a creature of darkness, and it serves me right I fell into a trap I can never escape.
He had built his bars well, bars of skull-bone and brain, to keep me in. His trickery kept me there, in a cell that created from my own head; a mobile prison that kept me always inside its lock.
The prisoner was held in the trunk of the dark man’s car until they arrived at the house on the beach. He could hear the ocean between his cries for help and the bang bang bang of him kicking the car.
Escaping with a twinkle in my eye.
I don’t deserve this, no one does.
To be accused, and wrongfully convicted,
what a waste of time, I have kids to care for.
I’m doing it for you, Julissa, Michael and Phil.
My little angels, I hope you’re well.
I am a prisoner!
Fear held her prisoner for years. She was used to looking out at the world with a somewhat damaged psyche. Trust did not come easy. Usually it never came. It was for all these reasons and more that she found herself lost in a sea of people. She smiled and made idle chit chat, but no-one ever knew the true Daphine. She doubted anyone ever would.