Saturday, 2 July 2016
The Prison Cell by Tyler W
In the gloomy prison cell, the mould grows down from the rusted tap down to the floor; the bed as solid as a layer of bricks, a pillow like a book. The key got, “lost” the day my arch enemy James started to work at this prison and somehow I have survived in a mouldy room with a solid bed and a damp grimy floor. Only having two meals a day; soggy bread and old water. The only company being two dead flies and a living moth. Life in this prison cell is tough just imagine all the painful sorrow.