Arrested Mind

Sitting in a paragraph prison cell. I write what I can't scream and yell. Mind slightly unsightly, or could you tell? Life is my water and bread, and the bread is stale. The waters kept in a unwashed, rusty pale. Still it goes on with the speed of a snail. A time leak untimely, blindfold and bind me. So not to see, in front of me, the timeline hasten Hell. And unfortunatly no fortune could be paid as bail.