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He had been in prison so long that he had forgotten his offense.....he

didn't remember the trial.......He wasn't even sure of his name anymore.

 

His hands has worn the paint off the middle four inches.....it was hot

and the cold steel felt good.

 

 

The bars slipped easily into the now permanent dents in his forehead.

as he gazed at the small light that sometimes appeared in the distant

hills and wondered what it was.

 

Was it a fire?......Was it a farm where children gathered eggs?....

Perhaps it was a hermit......living free.....

 

" Can you see that light? " he ask the old man in the cell next to him.

 

" Nah.........I never look out there. " came the response.

 

Time crept along.........It was late.....He could hear someone playing

the guitar.......someone was weeping.

 

" Ever heard of anyone escaping this place? " he ask.

 

" A few. " came the response.

 

" What's it like out there? " he wondered out loud.

 

" You're better off here kid...three squares a day...warm bed......

 

It's all prison.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

toombaru

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