Prisoners roam streets and shackles
rot on ankles of free men, innocence
knows not its name, justice knows not
its mother was stillborn before she could breathe.
Zika's Musings
I find some peace here
Prisoners roam streets and shackles
rot on ankles of free men, innocence
knows not its name, justice knows not
its mother was stillborn before she could breathe.
Zika's Musings 