The Falsely Imprisoned
A rock hard cave in a pitted doom,
A candle was placed in the corner and lit up the room.
From side to side a beige colored rock,
You can bang with your fists and he won't hear you knock.
Air seeps in through the creases of the door,
A blanket is placed against cold feet to the floor.
Under the ground, not too far from the sky,
You may hear her slither, but you won't hear him cry.
And so they wait and wonder why,
So many could care less, while so many lie.
They put their faith in paper trails,
And wait for senders whose letter still mails.
Excited for some candy treat,
Or some form of protein left in the meat.
Clean water may be hard to find,
But they will live till tomorrow if the false imprisoner is kind.
They wait on a man, instead of the Lord,
To rescue them free from the gun or the sword.
And as the years continue to pass,
They forgot that they didn't need to pray at a Sunday school mass.
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