Jun 2019
Within these walls, the mind lingers,
To places we wish to depart.
As the clock ticks forward and never back,
The change from ending to start.
As seasons change and our troubles pass,
New variables come into question.
The joy that has left as anger resides,
And fear builds onto wordless suggestion.
Bound, but not broken, continuing to persist,
Fairness unfounded within these walls.
As favorites are made and the quiet ones played,
Rebellion echoing through the halls.
To places we wish to depart.
As the clock ticks forward and never back,
The change from ending to start.
As seasons change and our troubles pass,
New variables come into question.
The joy that has left as anger resides,
And fear builds onto wordless suggestion.
Bound, but not broken, continuing to persist,
Fairness unfounded within these walls.
As favorites are made and the quiet ones played,
Rebellion echoing through the halls.
I wrote this while in jail. It was my first time ever being in such a place, and the isolation I felt being on lockdown and no contact visitation took a toll on my soul. I looked out my tiny window at the deer that were free and grazing with not a worry. For I was the captive, stripped from my family.. I wrote this during a riot after the inmates had enough of our 11 day lockdown which was supposed to be for 72 hours. I was let free twice the entire time for only a half hour each to make a phone call and shower.
