All sleeping on the block closing
in the crooked eyes of men
into the seperate cells.
Violent, cowardly kind,
the michievious boys,
the mis-led boys.
Thick be they their brave scars
tattoos that praise mother
luminous hearts with thorns.
Violent wardens bold desks
reigning their night sticks
their useless hammer.
Thick be they yet useless glass
The crooked, sullen block
Waiting for sullen lights out.
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