WORLD OUT THERE

He'd look at the bars and with eyes full of tears,

Why was he here,

He could never contemplate,

The hourly ear piercing sirens, gates opening, closing

Or the yard work , or the big guy - his bunk mate,

Were not anymore his fears, maybe cos of his upbringing.

Or the beatings he got on his first week, must have been his fate

Just because he made eye contact with someone,

And then how he would stay cooped up in his cell all day,

Looking through the bars with timid eyes having no one,

- By his side, afraid something will come happen

- To Him, yet that was not his fear .

Every person was twisted,

Every corner was soulless,

Darkness in every corridor persisted

Hoping to survive was fruitless .

Then he found a new bunkmate

Got to talking with him, met his mates one day

During a session of yard work, it was quite late,

Cracked a few jokes with 'em and got along with 'em,

They started defending him from other gangs,

Started sharing their lunch with him,

Started hanging out more, became less grim,

He soon found out they weren't how they'd seemed,

They all had a heart and low self esteem,

None of em were born this way, circumstances led em to this,

Hardly any different than him.

Now he'd reflect back to when he was young

Daily beatings , can't go anywhere,

Haven't got permission to do nothing, cos apparently its wrong,

Can't live in a way that's not mainstream,

He hoped it was a day dream.

Use your creativity, be unique, instead of something repetitive,

Like maybe not shoplifting but something distinctive ,

Said no one ever.

Now the corridors don't feel so lonely

The people, not so cruel

The closed surroundings, not so claustrophobic

The life in here, not so hell.

Cos he realized the real prison wasn't the one he was in

It's the world out there,

The one ruled by low morality and sin.

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