3 brief poems by prisoners always alone

In The Hole.
In the hole, where C.O.’s would love to see you hang yourself
And your only dream is to find the means to get out of this cell
Cause it seems like Hell when you can’t even tell whether It’s night or it’s day.
No razors to shave, no way to get paid, no place for the made
One must be brave and face each day, expecting the worst
You gotta prepare cause inside here, insanity lurks
so when it hurts and you’re feeling like you can’t go on
you stay strong cause that pain will not last long.

In the hole, where the C.O.’s would love to see you cut your throat,
And your only goal is to keep a hold of what’s left of your soul.
Cause they mess with your hopes and step on your toes trying to see if you’ll break,
It’s a game to be played, a fight too stay sane, a place for the crazed,
One must maintain and busy his brain, or all will be lost
If you don’t change but come out the same, then DAUG you the boss,
So when the cost seems like too much and tomorrow is hopeless,
You continue to cope push aside your sorrows and keep your focus.
anonymous

How Long

I’ve been buried alive in a stone tomb

I’m trying to find a ray of light seeking illumination from the moon

Every night I’m chipping at the walls, but only in my mind

I can’t sleep because I hear sounds echoing from past crimes

Nothing but distant images penetrate my eyes

Like Galileo with no telescope to see the stars in the sky

At times I just lay down with my head beneath the blanket

A frustrated way to escape because I hate it

My thoughts are of the world

but me it never mentions

All it does is spin and witnesses the tension

Every night when the sun hides from the beauty of the stars

I relax to meditate and my mind drifts through the bars

Every night I leave my cell and enter into the unknown

It’s a bit of a relief but it’s no place like home.

How long until I’m not alone?

WSPF Prisoner

Sometime I Cry
Sometimes when I'm alone, I cry because I'm on my own.

The tears I cry are bitter and warm, they flow with life but take no form.

I cry because my heart is torn, and I find it difficult to carry on.

If I had an ear to confide in,

I would cry among my treasured friends,

but who do you know that stops that long to help another carry on?

The world moves fast and would rather pass You by

than to stop and see what makes you cry.

It's painful and sad, and sometimes I cry

And no one cares about why!