🔵 By Thomas Riffenburg. Photo by lauragrafie.
At times I overflow with anger.
The helplessness to stop or ease the affliction upon me seems to drive me close to the borders of insanity. All my years I assumed I was the bad guy, the one who just could not do right in the eyes of society, but then I came to prison. The light of cruelty truly shone into the depths of my spirit here in this dead-end pit of misery and stagnation. How can my supposed bad spirit feel the overwhelming pity it does for other people? The injustice I witness happening upon forsaken souls causes me to whisper to whatever God is listening for their release from it. Never has mercy been so much within my mind as I find it here, constantly being brought forefront as I look into the faces of people I don’t know. The eyes of such men haunt my nights, as the horror they feel within themselves is felt even by me at just a glance. I can understand the screams of men to divinity in this place, the spirit crying out to the only place left to cry out to, to the one place that has yet to willfully cast them aside and turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to them.
I have yet to see divine mercy for these tortured spirits, yet neither have I witnessed divine rejection, so the one and only hope left to discarded-forgotten men is ever upon the minds and tongues of all here, except for some who have endured for so long to have finally snapped within their minds. How utterly angry I’ve become for another’s welfare, and how little of myself is thought for. Yet I know that is merely the beginning stages of this life, for my own cries and pleas to divinity will soon be the focus of my being. I don’t know whether it would be better to have the strength to endure till the end of this life of torture, or whether a quick succumbing of the pressure, so as to dwell within the numb reality of madness, is more desirable.. Even now at the worlds rejection of me as a man, I can see but the one and only hope that the rest here see. I hope it is enough.