Prison is a prisoner now of the town
It has been snared caught out by time
Kept preserved like a jar for its spirit
Of suffering, for tourists macabre sense
Of right and wrong, mistrusting themselves
Tempting themselves
To touch a darkness, they are afraid, yet thrilled by
Psychodramas played out
Within four walls
But what happened to them?
The ghosts, sure some died there
Were executed
For others it was their home
They did their time moved on
They are outside now
Trusting in the saving power of justice
And the reforming power of incarceration
The negation, the absence of life
Where liberty is a privilege not a right
Where is the prison? The town, the society
In which they do not fit
Are they locked up to keep them away,
Or to keep us away from them?
What is a wall, but an osmotic barrier
Through which they can still see
yet keep the time more preciously
Every hour can seem like a day
To try to make it work, make time pay
Learn a skill, learn to read or write
Learn the value of life
It is a school, in some way the hardest lesson
Was it a blessing?
Was it a fate worse than death?
A social death surely
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