Once again, I sit here all alone. Just to open my eyes to see steel and stone.
Out my cell window, I see rain from the sky. Just to realize, it was a tear from my eye.
I feel the cold air, chill me down to the bone. I’m forced to stay here, but this cell is not my home.
I hear the ring, the metal swing of keys and metal locks.
The scrapes of fear upon concrete, as guards patrol the blocks.
Another passing day, as a gangster doing time.
Bald headed, tattooed back, for a strap in my crime, as a youngster gets time.
A gangster dreaming love, creased down to my fear.
A gangster in love only has one destination, to reminisce on a kiss, could only be my imagination.
She swore she would wait, and never be late.
Sounds came along, and left me from the gate.
A tear from a distance, I feel my mother call.
The blessings from her pain, don’t penetrate these walls.
From the blast of powder, infatuated with ink manipulating looks got you wondering what you think.
It’s all in a struggle, for what you don’t see. Like the song says, will somebody please.
It could only be music, for a lifestyle to choose it. Brown runs deep that’s why we never loose it.
See all poetry for Eugene Diaz #270867