Can’t find a place to sing at the top of my lungs,
Wrongfully convicted, with dreams of seeing the sun.
Being born Black my only charge,
Living in a cage with raptors left me scarred.
No one to hear my song of joy and peace,
Smothered and ignored,
The world forgot about me.
I yearn for love when I’m met with hate,
A grain of sand on the beach,
That no one cares to investigate.
You can keep a bird in a cage as a pet,
He’ll sing the same song for so long,
Even he forgets.
No longer do I know what it means to be free,
I deserve this life,
I’m wrongfully convicted afraid to be free,
Prison life is what living is like.
When I roost at night and I’m ready for bed,
I forgot what it’s like to live,
I know more what it’s like to be dead.
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.