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The Prisoner

The Prisoner

by Terry Allen

Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash

My worries worry me

in worrisome ways.

I’ve not seen the sun for days,

but with undisguised glee

on the walls of this cell

I write words obscene

and scratch at the cracks in between.

How long it’s been I cannot tell;

I’ve not seen the sun for days.

For my worries worry me

In worrisome ways.


My worries worry me

in worrisome ways.

The cracked mirror holds my gaze.

The man inside I cannot free;

he just stares and grins

with teeth sharp and yellow.

He seems a most unsavory fellow.

A purveyor of uncountable sins,

I’d not believe a word he says.

Oh! my worries worry me

in worrisome ways.


My worries worry me

in worrisome ways.

I’ve been told crime never pays,

and the judge and jury agree.

To life they sentenced me.

My soul they’ll dismember,

till I no longer remember

what it was to be free.

So, to my silent god I pray.

For my worries worry me,

In worrisome ways.


(c) 2023 Terry Allen

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