Untitled 2
As I walk across this virgin soil,
I sense their presence near.
Iron spikes
and timbered oak
hold these condemed criminals.
As I gaze at my surroundings,
I see the precious gems
painted against a green canvas,
It is the only color that surrounds
this black flower of society.
I delecatly pluck a precious gem
from its home upon the bush.
This single gem is said
to bring these prisoners
a sense of fragile beauty.
These iron spikes
and timbered oak
feel cold beneath my hands.
As I open the door, I can feel them-
these condemed criminals.
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