I was once a man, out there in the outside world. Outside, beyond this maze of barbed wire and mass
of concrete fortifications. In fact I was not
merely a man, but a well-off respected member of
It is early morning, the beginning of a bleak
december day. The wrought embers of memories
deeply not alive preoccupy me as I trudge my way
across the yard. Faces that I once stood
against, watch me pass by, smirking as I do so.
They think it is fine justice to see me here,
among them, me, the person who helped place them
here in this cold barren place.
With december comes snow, and for those beyond
the barbed wire, presents and joy.Here, there is
just snow which makes the pushing of this cart in
front of me all the more difficult. It is filled
with books, and books are filled with words. So
too, is my thought-filled mind from whence I
speak to myself, to the frost-bitten air, and to
a non-existent eternally silent God.
Most here come from emotionally & financially impoverished backgrounds. Frustrated with their lot in society and fueled by the glitz of hip-hop beats, they chose a road leading straight to no-man's land. In other words, here. If you can call here a place. It isn't really, for most wouldn't call it "the real world". Then again, some might say this is as real as it gets. It might be referred to as a "reality check" for those of us foolish enough to think that we were untouchable.
I was one of those fools once. Once...upon a time...