Sitting in Prison
Here I am sitting in prison
while society believes they're teaching me a lesson
I don't seem to comprehend.
Who is foe, and who are my friends?
Existing in here takes the strength that only God could give;
if it were not for that strength I wouldn't want to live.
Some stare, and others glare, some really don't even care,
while the rest buckle, and turn to tell the all-mighty in prayer.
Some lose their minds, but the majority just their hair.
We all take life in different strides,
but the only thing that counts is who's by your side.
We take the curves, lumps and bumps,
while some get sick or get classified as gumps.
Glory Glory Glory
This little poem is actually a story
about a young man who was once sad;
through hard work and prayer has become glad.
Joy and happiness he's found in life --
he'd gotten to the point where he was tired of pain and strife.
He gave up most of what he knew
to walk through life with a new pair of shoes.
This might not all make sense,
but what do you expect from someone spending time behind a fence?
Copyright 1995 Kaleidoscope. Write Place. Volume 6.