The Untitled

Prison’s a place that gets lonely at night.

With no mail to read as no one will write.

Depending on people I thought were my friends.

Waiting for pictures that nobody sends.

Then waiting for visits that never take place.

From so-called loved ones who’ve forgotten

my face.

Dressed to the nines with nothing to do.

At least now I know exactly who’s who.

I must have been miserable it has to be so.

As my prayers were all answered and the answer

was no.