Vision

Curled on my bed
Hard, cold, damp
Concrete floor beneith
My aching slumped limps.

Head on the wall
Filthy moisture entangling
Down solid concrete
Walls of filth.

Looking out the window
One tiny crack of light
Sears my dank stupor
In two halves

Oh light of promise,
Light of splendour
Light that reminds me
Of where I am not.

If the walls come down
Would I be thankful?
Or is it something
I'm glad I forgot?

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM