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!