turnin' circles 'round
this weed infested field
surrounded by warning signs
standing like embattlements
connecting the unseen walls
of my imprisonment
gulls fight over prison baked bread
while turkey buzzards circle
their circles over head
i sit an' watch the weeds grow
with men sitting
on abused picnic table tops
slightly askew all in a row
faces reflecting diamonds in the rough
stone eyes staring into space
thru fences seperating reflections of home
and time turnin' circles
around the trite banality of this place
sending hope filled letters home
only to return in circles to sender
stamped address unknown
internal tears rusting away hearts
turnin' circles around too many lonely years apart
yet hope's remains settles in the spirits an' minds
of the men turnin' circles around this field
of lonely wasted time
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