The World of the Forgotten

My house is one of heartache
A place of steel and stone
A barren cell, a home in hell
And here I stand, alone
And when I rage and pace my cage
That no man wants to own
My body aches with frozen stakes
That chill me to the bone
I hear them sling their giant keys
And crank the iron locks
The scrape of feet upon concrete
The guards patrol the blocks
Convicts’ knives take human lives
No jungle holds more danger
And each new day that comes my way
Each man remains a stranger
I watch my back ’cause there’s a lack
Of men who can be trusted
And through the haze there comes a rage
Toward the rat that got me busted.
They came today and took away
The man that lived next door
To end his strife, he took his life
He couldn’t take no more.
It’s quiet here upon the tier
Since Death has claimed a brother
Now each of us are wondering:
Who might be another?

by BRIAN JOHNSEN, #300907, 1115 H. St. Modesto, CA 95354