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 604S

The prison was predictable. Brutality was writ
Across its skin..and for a heart it had a torrid lake
Of beating scars as thick as tar .
The prison had no eyes that looked beyond the bars
The prison looked within..
And each man ate himself each day..until his mind
Was open like a wound that never healed.

They took a young man in.
One rape..and then
That young man turned into a rattle snake..
And he was dangerous then.

Kristine Byrne
1.09 pm 17th April. 2014.

Poems - 2014