I would like to shout out like my friends and say
"I am a victim of circumstances!"
Yet I know I am not
I am a victim instead of my choices
A slave to guilt
A prisoner of fear, anger and shame
I am a convict
A tenant to the state for life.
Each passing day,
A testament to the wasted time
A reminder of the rotting talent
Of authors that write their stories in sand
Everyday a new novel
Of singers and songwriters who compose their songs in the showers belting out the tunes and holding the notes
You can hear the passion as their tracheae vibrate
The teachers teach, patiently
Preachers preach solemnly
I sit at one corner every awake passing hour
Piecing together information
Gathering knowledge for when I leave here
For I will leave
I will be a recipient og president's pardon for I have learnt my mistakes and I have paid my price
But I remain indebted to society
A debt I can't begin tu imagine I will settle in the confines of chains
If you ever listen,
Hear me my son's
Live right and be content with what you toil for with your hands
The blood you shed in your youth,
Stains your palms in old age
Your conversations will always be with the dead
Victims of your insatiable greed
Take it upon you,
To amend your lives before I return
I hear what you do in the neighborhood, I am not impressed
I never taught you better then but I am teaching you better now
Heed my advice
Sow it in the sun, harvest it in the rain
Enjoy the fruits of your labor under a shade
I will return, and when I do
If you would not have listened to my plea
Or learned from my mistakes
I will make you wish you were held behind this iron bars.
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