These walls are merciless, yet still truthful,

They trap a mind and body, no longer youthful,

All honour is lost in the ebbulient black broth,

Engulfed by that fear by which I betroth.

These walls are barriers, causing anger and pain,

A single shaft of lightis all that inspires my brain,

A mind is confined in this timeless black universe,

Realises that existence is but a pointless curse.

These walls are eternal causing everlasting rage,

I am trapped in a moment, in this infinite cage,

My heart is now lost; sacred spirit and soul,

My body is no longer that once magnificent whole.

These walls are sentrys, forever are they strong,

They hold the past and future for which I long,

I try to draw water from those derilict wells,

But then I realise I am trapped in this cell.

These walls are darkened by an ardent crime,

They are able to divert the raging river of time,

I am an undead shadow, lost amongst the lights,

Neither alive nor dead I have no rights.

These walls are final, there is no end for me,

I am an anachronism, a mistake that no one can see,

I do not live, nor do I die, I do not exist,

For I am not inscribed on Death's final list.

By James Womack