Novel & Cerita Poems Of Prison

The black diamond is cold under my fingers. The prison has no walls anymore. It is within me. And as I close my eyes, a single word resonates in the silence of my soul, a word that is both a curse and a prayer. To them.

Prison is loud. Anybody that tells you prison is quiet has never actually stayed inside one. Metal doors slam all day like angry thunder. Men shout from cell to cell like market women arguing over tomatoes. Somebody is always laughing too loud or cursing somebody’s mother but inside my head everything is calm. Too calm because the moment those iron gates closed behind me I already knew one thing very clearly. This place will not hold me not because I am stronger than prison. Nobody is stronger than prison.

the officer spits, his voice disdainful. I push myself up from the cot, my legs pulsating from the long hours of inactivity. My movement hesitant as I follow the officer through the maze of prison corridors. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, desperation, and despair. Every step I take is a reminder of my captivity, a descent into the murky depths of this living nightmare. We arrive at the prison dining hall, a cavernous chamber filled with a grating of voices, clinking trays, and the acrid odor of food. A long, grimy counter stretches across one side of the hall, where a group of prisoners, clad in identical drab uniforms, lined up to receive their meager rations. The inmates’ faces

She needed him by her side. Bruno spoke with Sondra's parents, believing they had the right to know what was happening with their daughter. "Thank you for informing us. I knew Sondra would end up in trouble sooner or later. We will travel there to see her case, although I don't think there's much we can do. It's clear that she's involved," Bruno said. Emma listened in silence, tears streaming down her face. After all, Sondra was her daughter. Meanwhile, in a prison in Milan, the redhead couldn't believe her luck. She was confined in that prison where the majority of inmates were there due to drug-related issues.

Those useless bastards never failed to amaze me. I lay down on the mattress-- the only furniture inside the cell-- willing the lights to be on; it was my only sense of time in the hell hole. I closed my eyes and started humming a tune from a childhood memory, it might not solve anything but it was a good diversionary tactic, driving away from the earsplitting silence. The night seemed to stretch for far too long, my stomach was already killing me. Though, I doubt the food in the canteen would satisfy my hunger. If only I hadn't lost the cracker from Edmund. That man, what exactly made him so interested in me. Helping me back there, he was a fool to think that I would cooperate with him. I ha

The second cell, the third, and all the way up to the sixth cell he was not happy. Prince Aldridge felt frustrated but held his frustration and composed himself. They reached the seventh cell where a prisoner was sitting on the floor in the middle of the cell with his legs crossed. His arms were bound behind his back and had an iron collar around his neck with five chains chained to it which were attached to the wall.

I have never been afraid of death but I am afraid of this door opening to reveal that woman whose face was like a sculpture in an art museum; devoid of emotions. I have lost track of time. This is the fourth day I have not been slapped into oblivion or been sedated. There are iron bars she constructed on the door. I was half awake the day she did it. It was after that she gave me more injections. This place feels like a higher level of the place I was held before. I seem to have been promoted to a different level of suffering. My food here has been two donuts in a transparent bag. She throws it through the bars to land on the couch or the bed. So I crawl to reach it if it is far off. The pai

Instantly, a dungeon comes to view which consists of several stone cells, cold and deserted. There are heavy metal chains in them and many of the walls have writing on them. Most of the writings are ramblings of past prisoners who lived there and had gone crazy until they died. Some of their skeletons still remain in the cells, rotting away even after death. If there is one thing Sloria does not believe in, it is to be merciful to its enemies. Anyone who tries to disrupt their peace are locked in the dungeons where a slow poison kills them over a course of several months. The poison is not always used and only reserved for the most fearsome criminals who dared to harm Dmitri or his people. H

"Okay, Stephen. I think you have an explanation for this? " Gavin crossed his arms, stood facing him while waiting for an answer from him. Half-disbelieving to see what was in front of his eyes at this time, Stephen looked at the Pedrosa clan prison building which was in chaos due to the prisoners who managed to get out of their cells, beating the prison guards and security guards who were helpless facing angry prisoners who went on a rampage taking out their frustration at being treated like societal trash.

But all I found was solid concrete; an impenetrable barrier standing between me and my freedom. Resigned to my fate, I slumped against the cold wall. The silence of the prison cell was deafening, broken only by the distant echoes of footsteps and muffled conversations from beyond the bars. The rest of the cell mates gazed at me pitifully but no word would dare the boss. As darkness descended upon me, a glimmer of hope emerged—a plan forming in my mind. If I couldn't break out physically, then perhaps there was another way—a loophole in the system that could lead to my exoneration.