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An hourglass sits on a table
Photo by iStock

between fourth and fifth grade, I wasted 250,000
gallons of water, flushing urinals in the
boys bathroom, chewed up
a forest of wood in the
pencil sharpener,
ticonderogas
down to
the nubs
all to
believe at forty-
five, with a criminal
history of wasting resources,
the most precious of which is time,
that it’s out of my system and somehow this life
sentence is for being a victim before I created one.

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 McCoy is a poet incarcerated in North Carolina.