Abyss of a Mountain

Residing here at Keen Mountain, echo reverberates with oppression and apathy/feels more like a cave to me/you wonder, is the sun up this day/cause the only light you see is not far away/is there cloud, or is it a blue sky today/this also you wonder, be it the only hue you see is gray/once the lights on this is how it will stay/17 hours later the lights goes off, you once again ask yourself, is there any stars in the sky, the only stars you’ll see is when you bang your head against the wall/is that rain I’m hearing; while my head is clearing/NO/it’s only the guy next door setting off the fire sprinkler/the lights is on again, so it must be another day/this assumption is justified, cause the slot open, here arrive your breakfast tray/you stare at the mess, and hope for the best/All the while wondering what kinda mountain is this, when the mess hits the pit of your stomach, you realize you’re in the bowels of this mountain.

-Mark “Abba Natty” King
Virgin Islands’ Prisoner at Keen Mountain Correctional Center
Oakwood, VA

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