L.I.F.E

As i sit entombed in this prison of glass
four gray walls and four gray thoughts rise up to frighten me.

I am trapped with studies.
tamed by their endless labor
death of my soul to pale sickly air

Un ending torture to my spirit.
for here i sit before the mocking glass
to see all the beauty nature taunts.
the grass is green the flowers bloom
and yet here i sit
four gray walls

My heart wails to be free
chains of conscience does betray
my will to liberty

Death, death of my very essence!
the brake between
discipline and freedom
death of my vitality.
The gray becomes me, where does the gray begin?
I am the gray.