The guard and I

The GUARD had come to know their faces indivually, Once so bright and eager.Now blanched with the pallor of prison,Their gestures the tired jerky movements the of old men,worn out with endless weeks,months years in prison.The stink of it; sweaty bodies, bad ventilation,old socks, despair.How could he bring himself to voluntarily , arrive each day. The overwelming smell of despair, invading his nostrils. Men in name only,all hope abandoned,no longer functioning as human beings. Simply passing the endless hours, going through the motions. with as little emotion as it takes to get through yet another endless day.Waiting for release of any sort,ready to explode.A feeling of total worthlessness, any small thing will do. No, No, this is no place for man or guard ,this! No sence to it,no rhyme or reason exists in this system. Ridiculously long sentences. Outside these cold, heartless bars that I now call home, what a wast. Society is turning the key, and its back on us. No,No, this is no place for a prisoner or guard this! Pent up emotions ,are ready to explode. How much longer can society carry this load.Yet for me, now it goes on, months and years. How many more,does it really matter. That poor guard going home ,is as much a prisoner as myself, who stays here behind these bars. Old men, no matter what our ages, the guard and I.