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Prison
December 13, 2015
It's empty.
His mind, his head.
Vacant.
The people come.
Full of questions.
He doesn’t answer them.
He turns his head.
Staring blankly at the concrete,
He speaks.
But, no one hears him.
He's wasting his breath.
The people have left.
Now he’s alone.
Alone in a void so vast, so deep.
Now, He wishes someone could hear him speak.
© Joseph S., San Anselmo, CA
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I wrote this poem after watching a documentary on a group of kids that were almost executed for a crime they didn’t commit.