The silhouette of his shadow which is cast upon the dirty concrete floor has finally become his only true trusted yard companion yet even then his cautionary ways still cause him to entertain a certain shadow of a doubt. Wondering if he can afford to exhale with a strong sense of content.
Is it safe to simply assume that it's a solidified fact that his shadow will always have his back? Or is that simply psychological lore?
If solitary forms of confinement nothing more than a plotted plan to lure, bait and seek out the weak.
If the only true permanent fact found in the parable of "anything behind the back will eventually try to attack."
If that should be the case, then how does one strategically wage an effective battle against his own damn shadow?
Is this a simple reflection of a parable and rhyme of a true reclusive mind or is it actually a classic example of a chicken shit battle of a man scared of his own damn shadow?
Although I believe this poem is somewhat entertaining, I simply used it as a vehicle to express something much deeper. That would be the psychological toll that it takes on one's mind when they are subjected to years of solitary confinement. Especially after being entwined one way or another in continuous acts of bloody violence all in the spirit of survival.
Sometimes trying to preserve one's way of life. Other times defending one's belief system. Or simply trying to stay alive to push forward and fight another day.
Adding to the mix and price of the psychological toll is the back stabbing acts of betrayal by those you once cared for, trusted, and in many ways still love. Amongst many other psychological issues it becomes extremely hard to know who and when to trust as your actual life and freedom can depend on it.
The stakes are high and the toll is heavy, so paranoia can and does run deep and rapid.
Shut Down the Control Units