Doing Time - Poem by Stephen Loomes
As I look at these brick walls,
Boredom is my prison true,
I think of days in sad grey halls,
But real steel bars imprison you.
I may drag the weight of doubt,
But yours are chains of misery,
You who cannot move about,
Because your prison is your body.
Let us sing the lament together,
As we pass this waiting time,
Are we captors of each other,
For an existential crime;
Or each in his own prison solely,
And all in one that is holy?
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