Gladiators, are we not?

Forced to adapt,

forced to embrace the pain

only to grieve at night.



Inmates we're known as

animals we're called

rehabilitation is futile

it's only about numbers.



There's no honor

no glory, no letters,

love nor retribution.

Only loneliness and wicked night mares

that keeps the heart beating out of control.



Thoughts of you is to have ones heart ripped from its chest.

Longing to travel through time to save you from that night.

I fall numb to the feeling

I'm trapped in life,

in love .



A prison within itself

What you see before you is the look of a man whose lost it all.

I'm striving to become something I'm not,

only to be picked on and unloved from the people I want.



Each blow "a lesson",

that'll neva be repeated again.

To right my wrongs is to fight,

To prove'em wrong is to win.

Success is everything,

so hear me roar from within.



http://resurrection817.blogspot.com/