I remember,
The days of rage,
When I felt like an animal,
Who was locked in a cage.
When I had to endure,
A prison hell,
As I paced up and down,
My prison cell.
I wanted to rip out the bars,
And smash down the walls.
And attack the screws,
And inmate fools.
Where rage and anger,
Almost drove me insane,
Where violence was an outlet,
For my torment and pain.
Where I had angry fantasies,
And wanted to obliterate,
The prison authorities,
Using my heart full of hate.
Where I felt frequent sadness,
And seldom felt joy,
And acted in a way,
That made me destroy.
I ruined so many friendships,
And broke so much trust,
And by the time I’d seen the damage,
My heart and mind felt crushed.
I felt so much guilt,
I felt so much shame,
That it broke my mind,
And left me insane.
And when I was finally released,
And surveyed the pain and damaged years,
I was completely broken,
And could only cry tears.
By the age of twenty-four,
I’d spent eight years inside,
I was broken in pieces,
And part of me had died.
And by the time I thought,
It couldn’t get worse,
I was inflicted with schizophrenia,
A tormenting curse.
Three nervous breakdowns,
In hospital three times,
Given medication to patch up,
The gaping wounds in my mind.
Discharged into the community,
And bed and breakfast hotels,
Then a ninth-floor council bedsit,
That looked like a cell.
Had to learn to cook, clean and shop,
While under heavy sedation,
Occasionally I’d smash my possessions,
It was how I coped with the frustration.
When I now look back,
I realise I’ve come far,
My soul is now healing,
To a gradually fading scar.
And I now have a nice home,
And so many new friends,
Who feed me with their love,
As I continue to slowly mend.
And the source of this love,
Is the greatest thing I’ve found,
The one they call Jesus,
Who wears heavens crown.