Quiet of this Cell

In the quiet of this cell, I trace my past, A shadowed boy, with laughter meant to last. Echoes of joy in the corridors of time, now fade to whispers, muted chime.

A ruthless beast, my father’s design, Crafted me in darkness, a jagged line. Half of me revels in this fearsome role, the other half mourns a lost, gentle soul.

Bars confine my body, not my mind, In these chains, the cruel and kind entwined. Memories of a child, so pure, so bright, crumble in the harshness of night.

Innocence traded for survival's guise, A monster's reflection in hardened eyes. Yet deep inside, a flicker remains, A remnant of youth, amid the chains.

I miss the boy who ran through fields, who knew of love, who laughed, who healed. But now I wear this mask of stone, A creation of blood, flesh, and bone.

In the silence, I confront my fate. Two halves of me in a ceaseless debate. One part longing for a bygone day, the other entrenched in the predator's way.

Oh, to reconcile the halves of me, to find the boy in this tragedy. But here in prison, I play my part, A fractured soul with a divided heart.