The Bars of Shame

You found me sad.

But what happiness,

Does an outcast have?

For baby, I’m a prisoner.

A prisoner shackled,

To iron bars,

Constructed of my shame.

My inmates have an echo,

That pricks my nerves.

The inconsiderate fellows,

Just live too loud,

On my vulnerable days.

This prison consumes me,

As I know,

This is all that’s left for a shell;

a few dregs of happiness

after the elixir

has been gulped.