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Prison

by Richard Vince

This place looks so different
For now I see it in the darkness
From a bus with dirty windows
Illuminated by few street lamps
And the streets deserted

Poetry can capture a moment
Words can imprison a feelingÂ…
And this place is like a moment
Captured forever in people
And streets and houses

I imagine Hell to be like Wombourne
Isolated enough to fester
Yet civilised enough to be barbaric
Enough violence to destroy bodies
Enough hatred to destroy minds

To the occasional visitor
It appears idyllic
A place to retire to
Somewhere peaceful
To grow old, quietly

But Death reigns supreme here
It is a graveyard
Not of bodies, but of souls
A real life Hotel California
A place where leaving is the stuff of dreams

12/18/2000

Posted on 06/20/2005
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

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