The Jacket

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  • Angst

    The Jacket

    That night I was all alone
    Huddled in the corner utterly prone
    The jacket they brought was white
    Told me it'd keep me warm tonight

    That night I was scared
    Paranoid, and knew no one cared
    They promised the jacket would protect
    Told me it was out of respect

    I put my arms in the sleeves tightly
    They said this man believes me
    The straps were fastened tight
    That was one hell of a fight

    I kicked and screamed
    Or at least it seemed
    No one could hear
    And I was consumed by fear

    That jacket was a prison
    Where all the inmates had risen
    Tried to break free
    But there was only me

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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