If my mother could see me now, I a convicted felon, she would cry a thousand tears
Here in the nineteenth century, I get life in prison, for a murder committed in self defense
I am remanded, to a newly built prison, what I have heard of this place, only fills my soul with immense feat
Sitting in the back of a prison wagon, the closer it draws near, my nerves, I am very tense.
Soon the wagon stops, I hear the guards talking, then reality sets in, I am actually here
Looking out the small barred window, there are no words to describe the fear stirring within me
I see this massive gothic building, I feel so intimidated, by what I see, no choice, I have to face reality, what I see for my life becomes very clear
The only thing I see is this massive gothic structure, only cement, I see no more flowers or trees.
I then here the door of the wagon, as it is opened, I am told to step out, into what seems to be some kind of court yard
I stand with others, convicted to this horrific place, just like me
Some around me, I watch grown men as they cry, pleading, begging, for mercy from the guards
But the guards, just ignore them as on deaf ears fall their heart felt pleas.
Before being led to our cells, one man steps forward, introducing himself as warden, the person in charge of this hell on Earth
He then tells the guards to take us away, take us to the place we would now forever call home
I realize now I have been sentenced to life within the devils playground and turf.
Walking past other cells, we hear the voices of others, hauntingly sounding, as they call out to us
Like they are saying, " Welcome, for your punishment, I hope you are prepared"
The others seem so well behaved, I thought when they saw us, there would be a bigger fuss
But I know upon entering this place, I'll be a forgotten statistic, I know I'm in for a life of hell, because I crossed the line, this the law, I had the audacity to dare.
Now here I am, put into a space, no bigger than a closet, then I hear the door as it closes behind me
The reality does set in, no light except for one small window, I now I know only God will ever hear any of my pleas
I really messed up my life, I know this isn't the way it was meant to be
If I die in this place of doom, I vow to come back and walk the endless halls of Eastern State Penitentiary.

StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 5/23/2008 12:13:29 AM
Well said, Lanaia. To this day these feelings are being thought by thousands of prisoners. You truly have a gift of turning real life and history into something great to read.

Free Verse
writing lanaia74
dark poet, fantasy writer
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Rating: 10.0/10

Eastern State Penitentaury, and it's inhabitants, living or dead