April 29, 1991|By H.B. Johnson Jr.

We are like the flames

in a burning building,

Put there for

An arsonist's sake.

Our private moments

are just as public,

And leers watch

Each move we make.

But unlike flames that die

When the building crumbles down,

Our eyes burn on like torches

In graves above the ground.

State Penitentiary, Baltimore

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