By JH Sayyar
In iron halls where justice draws its final line,
Among chains and bars: speak of guilt and dread,
There walks a soul whose courage dares confine
The fear that stalks where others' hope has fled
He bears the name of "Eight-oh-Four" in fame,
Yet fame recoils from fire within his chest;
Ah! Judged and jailed, plays coward's game,
But guards his truth like armor against the rest
When tyrants rule with fists behind the gates,
And silence buys a fleeting and fearful peace,
He stands—unchained in will—defying fates,
A bold rebel heart that will not beg; release
Though branded wrong by law and fate's decree,
In tiny prison's darkness, he fights still to be free.
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