Tomorrow I will die.

Tomorrow I will breathe my last breath.

Tomorrow I will shed my last tear.

I wonder what is happening at home.

Do they weep?
Do they merely shake their head and turn away from the news?

Do they care?

I still hear that judges voice echoing through my head.

How could he sleep?

Is he not just of a murderer as I?

But there are no shackles around his wrist. No bars between him and humanity. No silent death waiting for him.

I should be crying.

But I think I used up all my tears long, long ago.

I should be sleeping.

But I need to mourn my own death.

What if I just killed myself now?
Bet them at their own game?

My plate of food sits untouched where I left it. It bears a striking similarity to my first day here. Curled up against the wall, pretending I can see the moonlight through the stone.

Moonlight.

Now there's a thing I wish I could see.
I wonder what my last request will be.

May I see the moonlight?
May I see the sunlight?
May I see a world outside this grey cube?
May I pretend I am free?

Free.

Now there's a thing I wish I could see, except I know it doesn't exist.

Wether bound by chains or calendars, attack guards or anniversaries, bars or birthday, the restraints are there.

Holding us tight to the rails as we hurtle towards death.

And as for those they say broke the chains, they still died, did they not?
If their brain stops then they failed.

The only true way to be free is to never die, and even if even you are bound by the fact everyone else dies.
You cannot stop humanity.

Not the wars, not the death and not the plague we call civilisation.

The door slides open behind me.

Hands are cuffed.
Bodies are marched.

But minds still wander.

Hands are strapped.
Cameras are recording.
Hearts are silenced.

Minds are killed.