The Good Left Undone

Everything was quiet, the dark walls seemed to creep forever upward. The ceiling was low but the darkness made it seem so far away. I lay awake in another sleepless dream which always seemed to descend into this same nightmare of living the life which had been granted to me. My life, if it could really be called that, had been one train wreck after another.
Four years ago I had been dragged into a cold and silent courtroom, I had been accused of crimes which I had not committed and which pain me to even mention. I had proposed to the woman of my dreams, Sarah, who I had been seeing for several months, her answer still rings through my ears today, drowning out any other voice or sound that is to be heard in the hell which I now call home.
"Ha, do you really think I would marry you? My heart is set on another"
The "other" she had reffered to just so happened to be one of my closest friends. I had known him for many many years and I always thought of him as one of my best and most trusted friends and I barely even knew that he talked to Sarah. However I soon found out just how wrong I was, not only did they talk but for the last few weeks he and Sarah had been sneaking around behind my back.
Two weeks later they were both found dead in their small apartment. They had both been repeatedly stabbed and left in their bed to bleed. There was little evidence at the crime scene however what the forensics team found was aparently my finger prints on the side of the bed.
This was enough to convict me and give me two life sentences. I know that the judge and jury were only doing their jobs but should a finger print really be enough to take away a man's life? I can see how it would seem as though I have the motive to kill my ex and her new lover but I also know that I never went back to that apartment and I certainly didn't kill her.
So now I am here, rusting away with the bars that keep me caged. Silenced and broken. Every night I lie awake, listening to the leaky pipe outside my cell, dripping its recurring beat, the beat which slowly drums away the rest of my life. Chained and bound like a dog in a pound.
The guard opens the doors every morning and we must all perform our usual daily tasks of cleaning, maintenance and laundry around the prison. Four years of this is enough to break any man's spirit. But i refuse to let go completely. I will not have my life taken away and crushed, I may be a changed and tortured man but I will always hang on to my last spark of life, even if I am hanging on by just my grubby fingernails.
Still that pipe is leaking and still it drips away the life which I seem to have wasted but i will survive. All I want is to prove my innocence and I will not allow myself to die here as a convicted and falsely judged person.