A cooped up criminal
Lashing from within
Hardly even worried
That he'd commit a sin
Too many days
And too many nights
Too many beatings
In too many fights
A bed made of concrete
A cell block for living space
Always silently plotting
How to bust outta this place
His mind reels with ideas
So complex and surreal
Yet no-one cares what he thinks
Or how this criminal feels
For now he sits in silence
Pondering the great escape
Not being able to move
Or get past all the red tape.
September 17, 1998
Sara R. Barthol
