Trapped, Inspires Poetic Mess

_{Enclosed in a body that forbids me to yearn for the other part.
Imprisoned in walls of sacrificial rock, decaying-ly deceiving,
with deprived droplets falling too far, from me. Twin years of
sorrow, ahead of my vision. And once, thy breath of air
consumes my bosom, more years will aid this tortured prison.
For I can not help, but be me. Sentenced to a life of what they
call blaspheme. Temptation is powerful now, even as I endure
alone. These walls are occluding, breathing is ragged, the man
next cell hast departed this hazard. Gone is the innocence
surrounding my world, replaced by this Hell-wretched turmoil.
Remains of words flittering through my head, linked together
forming my poetic mess.}