Juvenile, bolted doors and small circles.
Itching for a hot plate.
Suffering the pain of maturity.


























Searching for the new world.
Every eye in sight is a fight.
No maturity to comfort me.
As i am a brick wall.
Heartless , broken , hard to repair
them all.
Transfer from juvenile to prison.
Life is on a thin line.
No listeners for i am a brick wall.
Travel from unit to unit try to fit in.
No letters.
No visitors.
As i soon hope to be released.
Getting sent to the hole.
With no fresh breeze nor trees.
Now i am a scavenger
Search and breed for needs.