Inside/Outside
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Poetry
Outside these prison walls exists real life,
Going daily about their business in haste.
The hustle and bustle, too busy to stop,
Lives synchronised, and no time to waste.
Mothers with tired children in tow,
Screaming, crying, wanting to go home.
Men in smart suits walking with purpose,
Others oblivious to all, chatting on their phone.
The train station bursting with passengers,
Waiting to board for their trip to work.
Annoyed, frustrated with another day at the office
A young lad on a skateboard, being such a jerk.
A drunken man, filthy clothes, hungry and begging,
No one stops to pander to his feeble please.
So many different faces, voices and religions
A collage of wide and varied nationalities.
All these people have lives of meaning and purpose,
Busy, full, entertaining and hectic lives.
Bonded together by the common thread of family,
There for each other, in times of good or strife.
But inside these prison walls, lives are broken,
Chastened by a system that abhors crime.
Their souls hardened by years of hatred and anger,
No meaning, no purpose, just doing their time.
The clock never stops, while doing
their time.
Outside these prison walls exists real life,
Going daily about their business in haste.
The hustle and bustle, too busy to stop,
Lives synchronised, and no time to waste.
Mothers with tired children in tow,
Screaming, crying, wanting to go home.
Men in smart suits walking with purpose,
Others oblivious to all, chatting on their phone.
The train station bursting with passengers,
Waiting to board for their trip to work.
Annoyed, frustrated with another day at the office
A young lad on a skateboard, being such a jerk.
A drunken man, filthy clothes, hungry and begging,
No one stops to pander to his feeble please.
So many different faces, voices and religions
A collage of wide and varied nationalities.
All these people have lives of meaning and purpose,
Busy, full, entertaining and hectic lives.
Bonded together by the common thread of family,
There for each other, in times of good or strife.
But inside these prison walls, lives are broken,
Chastened by a system that abhors crime.
Their souls hardened by years of hatred and anger,
No meaning, no purpose, just doing their time.
The clock never stops, while doing
their time.
‘Love is Rebuilding My Life’
By Phillip
There’s irony, hypocrisy, fallacy, a vast ocean of distance to cross. The “saint”, the “sinner”, it’s lunacy, that the ignorant could save the lost.
Creative
ISSUE NO. 22
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2 MIN READ
Methfairytale
By Karie
I’m not belle of the ball, not the very least, but we have something in common, I’m in love with a beast. But the beast is not a person but a drug that I call meth, I’ve been talking to myself for hours, I’m running out of breath.
Creative
ISSUE NO. 22
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1 MIN READ
Art From Inside
By Lanie
Our team was blown away by this beautiful painting.
Creative