At the stone wall in the penitentiary
I was staring, contemplating my life
and what I'd do beyond the walls, very
free, retaining not liberty of strife.
As there'd be pain, lonesomeness, many not
seen by me, canyon of years between us.
I'll say I'm freed, but fie! I have forgot
how out the cage I'll still be as restless.
Still be obligated, still not with any
where to go, still bound to habits, chained
in the past ways, engraved in history.
In mindless escape, I'll want to be ingrained.
But such exile will be prison of its own.
Yet drunkenness beats the prison of a man alone.
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Attempts at Happiness
PoetryHere is a thing that you can read. It serves as a commentary on life and related developments.
