This Place Called PRISON...

A place where you go to bed early, even when you're not tired, you
walk in circles, even though you have no where to go, and you pull
the covers over your head, even though you're not cold.
A place where escape is possible, but only through reading, dreaming
or just plane going mad.
A place where a kind word and affectionate touches are only dim
memories.
A place where basic humanity is ignored, discarded and eventually
forgotten.
A place where men are stripped of their clothes as well as their
dignity and herded like the beasts society believes them to be.
A place where what shred of human dignity you have left is totally
taken away when you run out of toilet paper three days before you get
your weekly roll.
A place where you're encouraged to your prison neighbors so that your
keepers can further punish you for their amusement.
A place where you write letters but can't think of anything to say.
A place where you wait for letters that come less and less often
A place where you've lost respect for the law because you see it raw,
twisted, bent, ignored and blown out of proportion to suit the people
who enforce it.
A place where you learn nobody needs you, you are the forgotten man
and the world goes on without you.
A place where you discover that all of the talents and abilities you
have are worthless for you are the man in blue.
A place that doesn't exist in the minds or friends for the cannot put
it on an envelope, nor can they find it in a car.
A place that only exists in a time warp, for you are only remembered
in the past tense, and that is probably appropriate for you can see
no future.
A place where you wait for a visit that doesn't happen and although
you know the real reason, you have to accept the lies.
A place where days blend into weeks, months merge into years and ions
pass without feeling the touch of a human hand unless it is raised in
anger.
A place where the value of human life can be determined by pressing
the wrong button on the remote control television.
A place where MCI somehow has a deal with CDC not to let you call
you're loved ones, but does give your loved ones and friends a good
excuse not to accept your collect calls.
A place where the language spoken has its own meanings, where your
mouth is your grill, your chest is your hood and the people you're
seen with is your car.
Can a man survive prison and resume a useful life? If he can overcome
the degradation this is heaped upon him, society will continue to
remind him that he is tainted. Does he deserve what he got? Of
Course, and smug society can be assured that it has done the proper
thing, until circumstances, errors, accidents or a mistake in the
judicial system flips the table and they find themselves in the same
shoes of the man in the cell next door!!!

Dave