A Convict Story: The House That's Built Around Me

By Suliman Ali


My home is hell,

   One small cell that no man wants to own,

      for one small crime that took a second in time,

         I must pay behind concrete walls,

            and steel bars were it’s cold and damp,

               where death is the test……


Here convict knives take human lives,

   No city streets could hold such danger,

      So, you see I must be a colder Killer than the rest,

         To see another day……

I hear foot steps on concrete floors,

   as the guards patrol the block,

      the sound of metal keys as they turn the locks,

          They found a man that took His life……….

              “He couldn’t go any Further”!!

It’s quiet here upon my tier where death,

   Has claim another,

      Would I cry? No not now or ever,

         even if it was my brother.

I lie awake to silent prayers and tears,

   as they try to understand what just happen……….

So, my Wife, If I should pass they will tell you that your Husband took his own Life,

Which isn’t the case for we have lived a good life,

   so please don’t cry for me, just tell our son,

      that life goes on and my spirit is always there,

         for Allah knows that I have past the test of being,

            a good Muslim till my death….