Dinzal Weathers | Write a Prisoner

MUST BE 18 OR OLDER - MUST READ TERMS OF SERVICE

Dinzal Weathers
2/27/2019

In The Echos Of Silent Confinement

I wonder…

Does crystallized carbon feel the pressure that

transforms it into diamonds?

Does gold cry out as heat purifies it by refinement?

You can hear the whines and whistles of a machine

when its gears are out of alignment;

But can you hear my screams of pain from sitting in

this hell-cell as it echoes in my silence?

Look closely, do you see the crevices in my cheeks

made by invisible tears?

If you sprayed carbon on my face those tears would

crystallize and appear.

So does that mean that I cry diamonds,

Created from the pressures of confinement?

Is this furnace of solitude purifying my Soul,

Ridding it of impurities and gilding it with gold?

Is Time the designated mechanic of my Mind,

Working to realign its gears in accordance to its

design?

It seems that in the echoes of my silence I’m being

refined by confinement;

Buried deep in the quartz veins of a system that

doesn’t even acknowledge

That they’re turning dirt Souls into gold

And carbon copies of men into diamonds.