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About This Poem
The Prisoner
The warden lets you out for the day,
not because he wants to.
He needs you to earn your pay,
he'd much rather control you.
What once was there, now is lost,
the void you need to fill.
A line that you willingly cross,
your time does not stand still.
At 7 a. m. I hear your car,
pull into my garage.
You disappear from all radar,
the prisoner is now at large.
And thus you live your secret life,
Christian, Worker, Mother, and Wife.
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