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A recorded reading of “Mind's Prisoning”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
A little girl sits in a corner, locked in a stare— what does she see when she’s looking at me? Eyes like windows, vacant yet aware, trapped in a place where I cannot be. Waving her arms madly at something unseen, grabbing at air, caught in a dream. Directing me, though I don’t understand, what horrors or shadows does she demand? Shouting at ghosts who linger near, forgive me, she cries, her voice full of fear. A plea to the void, a desperate sound— begging forgiveness for echoes unbound. So we keep these people behind these walls, their memories fading, their voices small. They have forgotten what lies beyond, the world they once knew, now long gone. Outside the window, the sky turns gray, but they can’t see it, locked away. The picture they hold is distorted, marred— a world that’s hidden behind stealing bars. A prison of minds, where shadows confide, where the light of hope is too weak to abide. The bars steal their dreams, their memories, their past, leaving them adrift in a sea so vast. A little girl sits, her eyes now closed— what does she dream in the silence imposed? For even within these walls so tight, her soul reaches out, yearning for light. But here they remain, the forgotten, the lost, paying the price, whatever the cost. Locked in their minds, forever confined, the world beyond them, forever resigned.
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