MONSTERS
Weighed, measured and found wanting. Of good character deemed short
Society’s dirty little secret, like a turd, flushed from court.
Stuck-up judge, stitched-up witness and lawyers all in the game
My frantic fingered frenzy finding anybody else to blame.
Never satisfied, I wanted more than the mug’s life waiting for me
I’ll stand up and be counted, rise above the streets that bore me.
Not for me the corporate clock-in; the arse-kissing and kneeling
My fast track future is on the street – ducking, diving and dealing.
A cookie-cut criminal me, from the same mould with the same story
Same sweat box and same prison cell like the thousands lost before me.
I was proving my uniqueness as a prisoner to predictability
Rebelliously conforming to the stereotypes expected of me.
A bellowing window warrior, uttering guttural defiance
More of me wasted in futile feuds before embracing compliance.
Listen to that mirror man’s voice; perhaps it’s not too late
He too knew what was coming; we both foretold my fate.
I blanked out his warnings; ignored screams and pleaded cries
A passenger in my own life, self-medicating with blatant lies.
Pleasing everybody but me, following other men’s ambitions
I never wondered what I wanted, wandered into broke traditions.
I fought to get up off the streets, with an aimless determination
I’d have clung like moss to those cobbled cracks if I’d known my destination.
Those broken boulevards of busted brick had never before seemed greener
Perhaps one day I’ll make it back with my newfound humble demeanour.
But will there be no happy ending here? No getting free and clear?
When a breath, an instant, a flash, one deed can cast a shadow for years.
My pox-scarred reputation before me like a leper bells chime
Warning to steer clear of me or be a statistic, a victim, a crime.
Tiptoed Tightrope terror, forever on eggshells walking.
Whispers, glances “Don’t look now but…” faceless voices talking.
“Is he out already? Where’s the justice in that” hear the lynch mob call
“We’re not safe with him on the streets. Get him back behind those walls”
But now the ball is in your hands, you have your part to play
While I am now behind barbed wire, I’ll be back on our streets one day.
You fear the monsters behind these walls, there are monsters here, no doubt
But your fear of what’s behind these walls, makes you my monsters on the out.
