Belief
The bars were fiercely vertical, preventing a horizontal escape,
The cell was square, the bed was hard, the situation red tape.
The food was bland and always the same, the water red like rust
The guards were stern, their words austere, their sticks encouraged trust.
He would claim to be innocent of the crimes committed by another
He would weep, he would plead, he would his sobbing at night smother,
Of course, no one listened, because he looked quite capable of doing the deed
And when he died in his sleep, a smile on his face, only the mortician...
at last...
believed.
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