There is a way to look at a child
To find the number of time he dies
Every time he fake a smile, and pretend to live without scars
There is a way to reach a woman's soul
Through the prison with broken walls in her eyes
To find the piece of her lost and shattered being
I do not know what this poem was all about
Till i pick my pen and stray into wounded verse
Sometimes we harbour emptiness on our shoulders
Till it becomes too heavy to carry
And the only way to ease, is working out of our body
Till we find a soul that looks like ours
A soul few miles away from hell and its breath
You no longer become scared of death, when you found someone to die with
The radio said a girl was imprisoned by men
Who said beauty are brothels, where men go
To find healing for their lust
She was cultivated between her legs
And left to grow in her eyes
Prisons are not only places where criminals are confined
They are places in the human eyes too
Where broken souls cry their souls to life again
The prison in her eyes is where she calls home
When left to bleed between life and death