Prisoner Blues

My name’s Christian Weaver. I’m calling from Mountain City, TN, contributing to the Cruel, Not Unusual Enough audiobook, and the name of my poem, the first poem, is “Prison blues.”

You don’t know loneliness until you’re alone. As you don’t know death’s your name’s on the stone. As you haven’t seen God with your physical eyes. As you haven’t felt grief ‘till your happiness dies.

You don’t know loneliness until you’re alone. As a wall is a wall until it’s also your home. As a fence is a fence ‘till looks like a cage. As a bird is a bird ‘till it’s black as a spade.

You don’t know loneliness until you’re alone. As you don’t know love ‘till your lovers are gone. As you don’t perceive fate ‘till it’s licking your neck. As you don’t adore life ‘till your sentence to death.

You don’t know loneliness until you’re alone. As you don’t seek the truth when it’s something you know. As you don’t see the light ‘till you’ve bartered your life for the serum unmixed and the flash of a knife.