Photo by david hili on Unsplash

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.

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Carnell Wingfield Jr.

Carnell Wingfield Jr. is a writer and poet incarcerated in California. He is a sociology major at Feather River College and also graduated with distinction from Blackstone Career Institute's paralegal course.