The painted walls are decked with dreams,
The dreams themselves are decked with shame,
The shame itself is decked with shadows,
The shadows choke this will to live.
The poet says that love endures,
The dreamer wills that hope endures,
The soldier fights that life endures,
The prisoner whispers that only despair endures.
There is no howl of rage to sound,
No frustration’s edge to pound down like steel,
No boundary at all to tear away,
But painted walls, decked with dreams.