Stories Intertwined

I share this cell with an old white man, whose weary eyes reflect a broken plan. He sits in silence, doing time, for defending his kin from a monstrous crime.

He beat the man who harmed his blood, In a moment of rage, like a surging flood. His daughter and grandkids, battered and torn. He acted in fury, a protector reborn.

What kind of justice locks him away, for shielding his family from a predator's sway? In this cold cell, the lines blur and twist. Leaving us to ponder what justice truly is.

He told me his story, voice heavy with pain, of a system that seems both cruel and insane. To punish a man for protecting his own, leaves us confused, feeling so alone.

Is justice blind, or simply unkind, when it binds the hands that save and protect? In this world of iron and stone, the true criminals roam, yet heroes are thrown.

Into cells like ours, with bars so cold, where tales of sorrow and confusion unfold. I sit here and wonder, my mind in a haze, at the twisted paths and justice's maze.

How can it be, that courage and care? Are they met with chains, in a world so unfair? This old man beside me, his heart worn and true, deserves not these bars, but a sky of blue.

I ponder our fates in the dim cell light, as shadows dance in the depth of night. What type of justice, so harsh and confined, punishes those with a heart so kind?

Here in this cell, confusion reigns, a young man's mind tangled in chains. For if protecting love leads to this fate, what hope is there in a world so great?

We share this cell, stories intertwined, In the search for justice, so hard to find. And as we wait, with hearts full of scars, we dream of a world beyond these bars.