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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1177481
Whatever your prison might be.
These concrete walls are now shades of gray.
These tall steel bars are now rusting away.
This has been my home.

Slow days move on by and the night owl will sing.
I'll keep my eyes closed and hope for a dream
of yesterday's world.

There is no tomorrow and I live only now
repeats for the future as the
dark moves on down.
And the night owl will cry.

With hair turning grey and bars on each side.
These strong concrete walls that keep me inside
will now set me free.

My yesterday's gone and tomorrow is now.
I'll start my walk home as the dark falls down.
And the night owl stands still....



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