“My prison sentence ends tomorrow” I said yesterday.
I prepare to add one last hash mark on these yellow walls, almost grey.
I’ll dream for the first time tomorrow, feel the sun on my face.
I won’t be guilty anymore, of entering my heyday.
The time fit the crime, I deserved every bit.
I stood at every trial, did not take too long to admit
There’s no use, I am guilty
I can’t rewrite my fate
so maybe now they will forgive me
and receive me at the gate.
I close my eyes for the last time in this tiny cell,
laid next to the clothes they prepared.
I recalled all the lessons learned, forgot all the treachery,
wiped all the tears away, then exhaled “I’m ready”.
I woke up this morning.
The marks have disappeared from the wall.
I have a vague memory of the decade,
like it didn’t happen at all.
The walls are yellow, the floor cold again.
“My prison sentence ends tomorrow” I said today.