“Sound Of My Prison.” By Jason Campell

 

The sounds of my prison

Are making me crazy, this I know for certain

No, Ifs’, Ands, or Maybe’s

The slamming doors and the jingling keys

Compete in my mind for space with men’s screams.

For days on end I wish for not

But silence and peace,

Receiving instead, fires, floods

And alarms that never cease.

I have seen streams of blood and tears

On the faces of prisoners,

And know none have fathomed

The prayers they make as petitioners.

This blood and tears of which I speak?

Know that they are placed there,

By corrupt politicians, judges, and guards

By whom prisoners are beat.

Many are seen as weak

But soon enough their corrupt system

Will become curdled and sour.

Already upon us the signs do appear

In the strengths of unrest

And the search for justice that are here. Persecution, prosecution, and execution

May be the current order of the day,

But one day soon, we as a people

Will have to rise and say:

“Enough is enough; I will take no more,

Put an end to degradations

And lift up the poor!”

On that day we will become united

And they will fear

For united we stand

And their power is sheared.

Now, I know that I am a prisoner

For my prison is made of stone and steel

Yet even if you are not incarcerated

A prisoner you maybe, if my pain you feel.

If disillusioned, fed-up

And down trodden you be,

Then look and listen to the sounds around you

And you prison you shall see.

So…The sounds of my prison

May weaken my mind,

But be assured, that in my heart

My strength I will find!

For in my heart;

I find my will;

My strength to persevere

They can never kill!

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