Political Prisoner Poem by James McLain

Under your wing it's safe they've said.
Living in fear day to day,
It's much to young to be gray of beard
I do not dye my hair.

Those in here where they've put me are
Here for minor crimes,
Mostly for vagrancy and just for being
Poor.

Should I be given a second chance would
I cause such stern consideration twords
Me.

Which is which I know no more than now.
A jail with thick walls and strangely
Enough no bar's.
We're not criminals, we're not violent
Thugs like those elsewhere in here.

The judge's, the judge's, the judge's
Know a soft spoken word holds dear.