A Dungeon Prison Cell

These four walls... stained the color of piss
Captured in the embrace of their entrancing grip
Angrily I stare at them and blankly they stare back
In frustration I strike at them in a futile attack
The longer I am within them, the more enraged I become
Consumed by my own fury I begin to feel numb
Laughingly they taunt me, trying to make me break
Until I reach the point where there's no more I can take
I lash out at them in lunacy, crazily clawing and ripping
Their yellow hue becomes orange from the blood that's dripping
My knuckles and fingers are bloody and torn, but I feel no pain
Finally they have achieved their goal, alas, I am insane
These four walls... another victim they have claimed
Although it's never their fault, they are always blamed.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Variach, in the year 231 MA.