Being in jail is lonely at night.
It’s waiting for letters that no one will write.
It’s depending on people you thought were your friends
when they fail to come through again and again.
It’s sitting around with nothing to do,
trying to figure out just who is who.
It’s finding out that hearts are made of stone
and realizing that you’re all alone.
It’s waiting for visits that never take place
from so called friend’s who’ve forgotten your face.
It’s wondering why time seems to move so slow
and every dream you have has no place to go.
Therefore I will do my time with my head held high
and keep my integrity and pride until the day I die.
The day will come when I am free,
then it will by my turn to forget those who forgot me.
by Rocky Barbosa