the prisoner

a story goes that there once was a prisoner, who's term had ended

years in prison was spent going where he was told, eating what he was given, sleeping when he was allowed

he spent a long time in that institution, and became used to the life there

when the time came and the warden walked in to say 'you're free to go', his knuckles went white

'leaving these tall walls,' he thought, 'for the bright sun?'

'where will I find shade?
'where will I find food?
'where will I find friends?

He sat slumped on his worn cell bed. "Thank you sir, I'll sign the papers."

"I'm a bit unkempt, can I get a razor so I'll look good when I leave?"