The sound of the metal doors echo through my haed
Laying on a concrete floor with thoughts of being dead
Prayers go nowhere in this hollow room
Feeling inside the darkest gloom
Guards get off with a cruel attack
Works on them like an aphrodisiac
The hardest patr of being here so long?
Is the knowledge of doning nothing wrong
Innocent as well as I may be?
Bling justice will not turn around and see
I lay awake almost every night
Watching demons dance through a darkened light
Cold air blowing through this empty cell
Riandrops fall outside which I can smell
Please give me a pardon set me free?
Or in a jailhouse dying I may be
Has everybody lost their common sense?
Why must I live with the terror of innocence?

Sam K. Dyer.