Propain Cebekhulu

Confined in the midst of my own head, Offered the smallest slice from my own bed, Thier words were like onions, But from my eyes, not even one tear was shed. Minutes slowly turned into decades, Fists bruised from breaking barricades, And from my mental chains; there was no escape. Imprisoned by my own imagination, The doctors said it was brain complications, And not even a miracle can save me from my limitless temptations.