The man sat in the prison cell, convicted
For life. He saw the same four walls, the scene
Outside his window never changed, restricted
In life and all his views, he had turned lean.
He kept back from the door the guard sat near
And waited for the food to come to him.
He lived a life of ever-present fear
And only read by lights that faded dim.
The days, the months, the years all passed, the gray
Grew in his hair, and death approached at last.
His life was death -- he wanted no delay
To pay with life what happened in his past.
The guard stood up and opened up the door.
"It could have opened any time before."
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