RAISING RILEY

 ,Because of my actions, I am surrounded by bars. I can hear the other prisoners talk in the distance. Honestly, I couldn&rsquo,t care less what they are saying. ,  ,In here, I try to evade any contact with anyone. No friends. No lovers. No nothing. I just want to be left alone with my thoughts. They are depressing. Disturbing.  , But I manage.  ,My stay here hasn&rsquo,t been too bad, except for maybe the shit they call food. Luckily I haven&rsquo,t been raped. And I have heard horrible stories of it. And, surprisingly, that disturbs even me.  , Almost every morning when I wake up I have the sun bleeding through my window brightening up my room. The birds chirp. The clouds drift by. The sky is blue. It just seems so pleasant out there.  ,But sometimes out there isn&rsquo,t so pleasant. Not so happy. I&rsquo,m just grateful to be in an enclosed space by myself where I can hide.  ,  , , , , , , , , , , Yes, hide.  , , , , , ,Because &ldquo,out there&rdquo, brought me pain and suffering. Physical. Emotional. More than you will ever know. Possibly, more than you can begin to comprehend. The story that I&rsquo,m about to talk about deals with my pain as a child coming from inside my shell. Inside my existing human body that my skeleton occupies until I die and all of my flesh rots away. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. And then, just maybe, I will be free of this horror.  , , , , , I hope.  ,It seems to stay with me beneath my flesh, inside my skull, and down my spine like hundreds and hundreds of tiny little spiders sinking their teeth into my skin and releasing their venom to flood me full of bad memories. It never ends. Does not let up. , So I wait. Wait to die from this life that is supposed