Dual-purpose poem Poem, by Friendship, at My poetic side

A poetic manipulation: which elements are sincere, which are deceptive, and which do I intend for you to perceive as genuine, or not?

In sterile halls, I wander alone,

A prisoner of walls, a soul overthrown.

The world outside, a distant hum,

A fleeting dream, a life undone.

I've lost count of days, of nights, of years,

As time dissolves, and hope appears.

A fragile thread, it frays and weakens,

A lifeline snapped, my spirit seeks.

The sun's warm touch, a memory now,

A distant echo, a love somehow.

The breeze's soft caress, a forgotten thrill,

A longing cry, a heart that's chilled.

I yearn to break free, to shatter the chains,

To dance in rain, to feel the sun's warm rains.

To breathe the scents, of blooming flowers,

To hear the songs, of birds in joyous hours.

But here I stay, in this confined space,

A captive heart, a soul in a lonely place.

The walls close in, the air grows thick,

I'm dying slow, my spirit sick.

The fire that once, burned bright and bold,

Now flickers dim, a dying ember cold.

The passion that drove, the dreams that soared,

Now wither away, like autumn's leaves, no more.

Oh, for a glimpse of the world outside,

A taste of freedom, a sense of pride.

To walk among the living and the free,

To feel the pulse of life's wild energy.

But still I wait, in this desolate place,

A soul trapped tight, a heart that's lost its pace.

The minutes tick, the hours crawl,

I'm dying slow, in this endless fall.

Yet still I hold on to hope's thin thread,

A glimmer of light in this darkened head.

A chance to break these chains that bind,

To rise up strong, to leave this prison behind.

For even in darkness, a spark remains,

A flame that flickers, a heart that still sustains.

A will to live, a soul that still yearns,

To breathe the air, to feel the sun's warm burns.