On an island, surrounded by a stormy sea
I live in a prison, sentenced for eternity
My hair is long and matted and grey
And my soul still longs to be set free one day
I am skinny and frail I can see my veins
I sleep on a bed that is covered in stains
I live in a tower, in a room so small
I deserve what I got, for a life so cruel
I have been compared to a living nightmare
And in the past I have done crimes without a care
I have been here now, in my own personal hell
But I have only just touched my prison spell
But I have kept my head down and caused no harm
Polite to the guards, put on the charm
I was rewarded with a desk, chair paper and pen
They said I could have more, but they never know when
So I sit here and write poetry, verses so beautiful
About a life I wish I had and when I was little
I write, and I write, my pen just flows
Creating a world, where on trees love grows
Yet i am a man hated in society
I can't undo the pain I have caused and the misery
So I sit here and write, poem after poem for no one
Who would believe that words so beautiful would come from scum?
The paper stacks up on my desk, and the guards come and read some
But they know about the crimes I have done
I overheard one of the guards say one night
About a row they had with their wife, some silly fight
He told the other guard he remembered my poem he read
And he told his wife the poem and they ended up in bed
She told him it was the most amazing, heartfelt poem ever
She asked him if he wrote it? Did he say it was me? Did he ever!
So through words I create myself a new life
Words that can even charm the guards' wife
I write a world from which I am king
And where all my crimes don't mean a thing
I create my own justice and fair trial
I write poems where people don't snigger but smile
With each stroke of the pen and forming word I write
I mastermind my poems both day and night
Confined to my cell, my world in a pit
Lives a guilty man whose a prisoner poet.
