An iron door set in stone,
A barrier standing against man.
Beneath the rust, metal shines,
Revealed by desperate fingers.
The walls are green with moss,
And water trickles down them,
Runs down a name set in stone,
Carved in the wall with a nail.
A ray of light cast on the floor,
Sparkling dust dancing in the air.
Deep in the windowsill are worn,
The handprints of the dead.
A window into that other world,
And yet too small to enter.
A land of freedom a wall away,
And I sit trapped inside this cell.
