L Hear Freedom Groan Poem by James McLain

Freedom groans,
under the weight of it's downtrodden.
Executions,
in Florida may soon come to a stop,
still today, I became again afraid.

I often wonder am I a coward afraid
of jail?
Self reporting, self arrest, saying what
need's to be said.
I try to ask them all of the questions
that makes them hate me.

Without me, I wonder
would they still have a job?
The detective hating my word's got up
and shook the hand's
of two homeless men, turned and said.

These two show respect, while you give U.S.
nothing but grief!
I then said, he wearing a gun, chair's
firmly secured to the ground, yet we come
and go.

Convicted felons that don't report to the
sheriff's office,
are guilty of a third degree felony
punishable by up to five year's in prison.

I tripled up on my seroquel because I sweat
perfusely and shake uncontrollably when I'm around
corrupt individuals whom have the power
of life and death over me.

You see,
come May of next year I will have been out of prison
for twenty year's.
And since my release I have been jailed
at least twenty time's.
I have spent easily twenty grand on bailbond's
I've lost a multimillion dollar yearly business
my family and home.
While committing no tangible crime inside my state
or country.

Now I am old beyond belief and have no real interest
in what they will do to you,
because you didn't care what they did to me
now that I hear freedom groan.