Creative

Oh how I can’t stand these nights alone, wishing that I could just go home. Never thought this is where I’d be, constantly dreaming of being free.

I’ve tried to write poetry, but I find it hard to do, I’d like to say in pretty words, just what I think of you. And what I would like to say, would be something like this: you make my heart run wild, with just one little kiss.

Beyond the bars, I sit and think about the past. Beyond the bars, I wait and watch the time pass. Beyond the bars, I barely ever see the stars. Beyond the bars, I’m alone in the dark.

You were never there to tuck me into bed. No, you were never there at night when I was scared. Mama, where were you when I needed you most. Mama tell me why all alone I had to cope.

Freedom has been likened to a bird, a plane, a song, it has been once personified as a road that’s very long. Freedom has been likened to people: from war, death, or insanity, to others it is being absolved from rules for eternity.

The two men popped open the Tesla's doors, thump thomp, and stepped out into a blooming orchard. The air was a herbal tea. Honey bees bobbed between the peach pink flowers.

If I could dress it up and say I never felt better, that I’ve got a girl at home and I’m waiting for a letter. I’d pretend the kids are fine and doing well at school, and when I phone they say they miss me and they think their daddy’s cool.

No matter what our pasts may say, what hurts, our pains endured, and tears shed for those who walked away. You and I, need not let ourselves be defined by those hurts from our pasts and no longer will it influence our time.

Waiting for parole is like remand all o'er again. When starting on my 'things-to-do', my mind leaps back to 'when!?' All-consuming niggling thoughts contort me out of shape. Swarms of bees inside my head frantic for an escape.

Don't follow in my footsteps, it's been no Sunday stroll, no the road to redemption, isn't paved in gold.