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Photo by david hili on Unsplash

Can’t find a place to sing at the top of my lungs,
Wrongfully convicted, with dreams of seeing the sun.
Being born Black my only charge,
Living in a cage with raptors left me scarred.

No one to hear my song of joy and peace,
Smothered and ignored,
The world forgot about me.

I yearn for love when I’m met with hate,
A grain of sand on the beach,
That no one cares to investigate.

You can keep a bird in a cage as a pet,
He’ll sing the same song for so long,
Even he forgets.

No longer do I know what it means to be free,
I deserve this life,
I’m wrongfully convicted afraid to be free,
Prison life is what living is like.

When I roost at night and I’m ready for bed,
I forgot what it’s like to live,
I know more what it’s like to be dead.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Global Forum Online has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Carnell Wingfield Jr. is a writer and poet incarcerated in California. He is a sociology major at Feather River College and also graduated with distinction from Blackstone Career Institute's paralegal course.