Analysis of The Prisoner - free verse

Here I lie beaten and bruised,
My crime being
A victim caught up in yet another war.
A pawn to be played
So in my solitude
I close my eyes and look inside myself
For a light,
But there's not much hope,
Night and day-day and night seem the same.
I have a tiny window up high, my only contact
With reality
If or when the sun decides to shine
That would be nice.
And so here I am lost in time
All alone,
My food and water comes little and not very often,
Through a slot at the bottom of the door, those ? buckets do the same.
There's no human contact, I wouldn't
Understand them anyhow!
Dull days and the nights are cold,
A shabby old blanket
And a stone and wooden bench are my bed.
Well I'm being punished! what else can I expect,
Sometimes I hear screaming,
There are men and women here by the sounds of it.
I'd give anything to get out of this hell hole,
Nothing to read nothing to write with
I feel I'm going bonkers.
My cell is very tiny, I was never claustrophobic
But sometimes awakening to the darkness of the night
I find myself clinging to its tiny window,
Gasping for fresh air and holding on
To its single little bar.
Trembling I drop to the floor
Slumping into the depths of my nightmares darkest hole,
This is indeed my darkest hour.
My brain has become a confused receptacle I'm dehydrated
And malnourished,
The most simple things begin to please me.
The sound of the wind and the rain,
A distant bird-song, all are sweet music to my lonely ears.
But now looking back I always knew when a month had past,
Because luckily a full moon would somehow illuminate the cell
And at the tiny window stars peeped through.
On these nights I'd just look on, soaking in its
Comforting inspiration.
It's so strange how those mundane simple things in life
Can turn into your salvation.
Well these simple things in life are not so mundane now.

TjHatton     18/08/13.