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Poetry
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| Don't Ask What I Done | |
| By Inmate47251 | ||||
| 17 September 2006 | ||||
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You get to thinking some on the inside. I was wondering if them baked beans is really baked, or just cooked in the can. Reckon so. I had a job once And a girl But the system took All that Away from me Haven’t seen my kids In seven long years Me Ma Says she now Has no son And my uncles And aunties They cry when Someone mentions My name Luckily Me Pa’s In the next cell So he keeps Me company
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