I've wandered far all alone

just to find my way

back home.

Twenty-five years in a cell

of my own

is too long a time for

anyone to atone.

I grieve over the life that

passed me by...

It hurts like hell;

a sty in the eye.

I hunger after rainbows

on dingy walls

then pick up my pack

to go no where at all.

My eyes are tired

from lack of sleep;

no gentle hand to

comfort me.

Where can I go if

not back home?

The jokes on me

where ere I go

I'll be alone...