Crash
by Ted L Glines
The light is cold and sterile white
in prison halls all through the night,
a sleeping convict moans in fright,
fear has fangs that often bite.
CRASH
Gate slams shut on loves and tears,
no hope here for all his years,
convicts dream of hugs and beers,
each dream, lonely, disappears.
CRASH
Gate shuts out the growth of time,
young man caged all through his prime,
hear the crying speech of mime
in this place - the school of crime.
CRASH
He beat somebody - stole some cash,
he'd love to run - make a dash,
guards have keys - gates go 'Crash, '
walking talking human trash.
CRASH
One day when he's grey and old,
they'll kick him out into the cold,
and let him starve on streets of gold,
a pauper's grave with life untold.
CRASH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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