The Prisoner Poem by August W. Landing
The Prisoner
These times are hard,
Bitter and sour.
That is all to say I had
At that hour.
These times are hard,
Bitter and sour...
And they pad the locks
And go laughing-
Thinking I want free...
Earth was a throw of rocks,
Dust in form of nothing.
To free is to slave
For time and choice and chance.
Death pads the locks,
And go laughing.
Thinking i want free
Sunday, September 4, 2011
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6/11/2026 4:49:21 AM # 1.0.0
