Hard Time

 

The days come and they go seemingly in constant sameness

Time don’t mean nothing no more; it’s passing is so painless

Locked here inside this prison cell doing life without parole

Time for me is almost at a standstill; I wonder will I grow old

 

First here at seventeen, my reward at the end of a criminal path

 On the fifth of next month I’ll turn fifty-five; you can do the math

You can’t predict your own life hard as you might ever try

But I know already that it’s here I’ll be on the day I die

 

 

A rack of bars and three metal walls; not a window in the place

There’s barely room for one in here but two share this space

Hard timers, that’s what we’re called; them that come; never leave

We wear the badge with honor like stripes sewn on a soldier’s sleeve

 

 

The isolation inside these walls is enough to drive good men mad

Maybe it’s a fitting thing for those whose life has turned out bad

It’s not for me to say how much pain and suffering there should be

Nothing else much matters when a jury says you are no longer free

 

 

Men come here mean as a snake all ready to pounce and pound

Soon they meet meaner ones who have ways to calm them down

Those who say they have seen it all have never been long in jail

Some been here longer than me and have watched the weaker fail

 

 

There’s no one here that I call friend; not a one in all these years

So when I grow old and die, they won’t miss me or shed any tears

I am man among many men; just humans, normal flesh and bone

But we are different than mankind; though together, we’re alone

 

 

Those who once loved me gave up on me years back down the line

Many have gone to the promise land; long since done their time

The folks past on long ago and others long since forgot I was here

Memories are all that are left now and most of those aren’t clear

 

 

Some men break and cry like babies begging to just be set free

When I hear it I turn away, I’ll not cry; begging is not for me

I’ll not break down and lose control only to beg for my reprieve

I’ll do my time and when its done, in a black hearse I will leave

 

 

 

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