Threads
Dear Diary,
Another day dawns within these unforgiving walls. I feel the weight of the threads that bind me here tightening around my soul.
I reminisce about the savory aromas of home-cooked meals, the laughter around the dinner table - the simple joys.
The routine of the prison yard was the same old cruel ballet of inmates monotonously shuffling from one corner to another. The stifling heat intensified as the day wore on. I yearned for the breeze that danced through the trees outside.
As the shadows lengthened, I retreated to the solitude of my cell. The narrow cot, a makeshift haven, offered little comfort.
Night fell like a heavy shroud, bringing with it a profound silence broken only by the distant wails of the forgotten. The weight of my mistakes presses upon me. The gnawing of my mistakes eats away at my soul.
I stare into the abyss of my thoughts; I can't escape the ache within my chest. The iron threads tighten, constricting around my spirit, and I couldn't help but wonder if it will ever get to a point when I feel like I have paid enough for my mistakes – if the world will ever think I have.
The world outside, the world that was once my world too, is oblivious to my suffering. Something inside me clings to the hope that one day, the threads that bind me will unravel and set me free from the embrace of my guilt.
I am a prisoner of both body and soul. A prisoner within these walls.
I am a prisoner within myself.