Heart turning, eyes filled with saline
Cheeks stained with years of pain
Surrounded by a world of grief, and mental
Can no longer sleep
I’ve been wronged!
By a premised virtuous arm, better yet, a hand
The stenographer’s husband,
was the prosecutor’s man
Can’t shut my eyes,
every time my lids close
I can see dead folks
They are chasing me…
It seems like my friends want my soul
I don’t know if I should close my eyes
And just let go?
Cause here I’m hurting…
I’m floating above
Tip toeing on the edge of…
My mind is lost, trapped somewhere beyond
I want to go, catch-up to my faculties
But I’ve been wronged by the court’s faculty
The stenographer stole from me
Dispatched by who?
I hunger for information
However, my searches always return vacant
I’m left as if asunder
Because I fear, that the day will come
When I become complacent
With this house of Satan
So, I cry
The tears that run down my face are alive
They speak words of discouragement as they
Give up… it’s over… the truth will never be
I came here young, now I’m grown
In a short time, I witnessed this place
take a dozen souls
I’m shaking cause this place is so cold
This place is turning my heart to coal
The stenographer played a role
Placing me in this morbid hole!
If I close my eyes, I will be sent to dwell
With my guys, who I miss dearly
My eyes are closed!
Farewell… forever, truly yours!
This piece was originally published on Kory’s personal blog korymcclary.com.
Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.