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Rated: E · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #1069001
Prison at night
So many of those are tossed away, not even looking forward to another day. They see no future, for their past unfolds a dark bleak picture. What is this fate they now call time?Surely not an inspiration to unwind. They look back over their troubled past, knowing that their life has all but past. Now this small inclosure will hold them tight, and all the different sounds at night. Could it be that someone is crying? Oh but is it that they are dying. They did this with their razor knife, not wanting to see the bleak of night. Oh the past has brought them here! Now the razor knife will take them away, for this tiny space that locks them in, can not hold onto the soul within.Forget the sky, the birds, the trees for this man, all is gone! The last drop of blood will drain from his veins and no one will find him until the break of dawn, In this tiny space your only a number with no face! In this solom place called Time................
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1069001