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Shadow of a person cast on a gray wall behind bars
Photo by Ye Jinghan on Unsplash

Imagine your feet within my shoes
Confined with misery and prison blues
Tortured by loneliness and bad news
Surrounded by liars and ignorant fools

With a smell of hell in a two-man cell
Ready to go postal from a lack of mail
Ready to give my tomorrow a final farewell
Because this thug is ready to tuck his tail

Imagine the slop we consume per day
Imagine the demons our consciences try to slay
Imagine the nightmares our memories replay
Imagine the tears when we kneel and pray

Feel these words that my foreverness feels
And what medication can help the spirit heal
When your psychological profile is labeled to kill
And a dog wouldn’t eat what they consider a meal

Imagine the rejection that changed my complexion
Imagine my tears in the eyes of your reflection
Imagine years without hugs or affection
Imagine waking up in the Department of Corrections


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.

Michael Leak’s poetry is “the medication of my depression; it’s a window that my imagination peeks through.” He is incarcerated in Michigan.