In a solitary cell, you've
lots of time to meditate;
but first you must accept,
conditions of your fate.
The 'monkey' mind, it interferes,
and ceases to be still,
it races in confusion,
against the shaky will.
Therefore, you're driven crazy,
in disciplinary segregation;
you're a figment of existence,
in your own imagination.
You're not a monk or yogi,
you're something dark and sinister;
befouling yourself behind these walls,
a stinking, forgotten, prisoner.
They jailed you for a petty thing,
on any charge that they could find;
they shut your body in cage,
but they couldn't jail your mind.
No, they couldn't jail your mind,
but now...you're losing it;
as you contemplate the concrete,
in the corner...where you sit.
David Lessard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solitary-8/
