Alone in the confines of a cell I am forced to call home,
With the idea of a good night's sleep being reduced
To nothing more than an impossible dream,
I am, frankly, intimidated by what scene the morning sun rays shall behold,
How things shall seem,
To me
And the people around me,
Cruel and cold,
To my emotions, blunt and bold
Or shall I be granted a new lease of life,
Which shall free me from this seemingly endless strife
I wish to be an optimist,all along the way,
Wish to extract comfort from what I think and say
Laugh out loud at things I would normally have scorned,
For this is my weak reaction to things going worse,
Something I'd like to call the optimist's curse
So oh creator, if you're listening up there, on your throne so high,
Could you kindly pardon me and let out one last exasperated sigh,
For my lesson is learnt and your deed is done,
All I ask for is your mercy
-A sinner, yet your favorite son
