04-05-2014, 03:57 AM
Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption (Hope Springs Eternal) Stephen King
Library Brooks
For the first time in months
my hands are steady.
I know now I'm ready,
my suit is pressed Sunday best.
The paper bags I fill each day
are as empty as the room
in which I sit marooned,
without the chance of passing ships.
The books I pushed are all but blank,
perhaps they map my thoughts
on plans of getting caught,
meet my friends and shake their hands.
Each morning I try to shine my shoes,
today they step on table tops,
unable to care about the drop,
this knot was tied as I left my cell.
The plasters soft and falls away,
chiseled with a simple knife
I waiver rights to an unwanted life.
Brooks was here...returning my book.
Library Brooks
For the first time in months
my hands are steady.
I know now I'm ready,
my suit is pressed Sunday best.
The paper bags I fill each day
are as empty as the room
in which I sit marooned,
without the chance of passing ships.
The books I pushed are all but blank,
perhaps they map my thoughts
on plans of getting caught,
meet my friends and shake their hands.
Each morning I try to shine my shoes,
today they step on table tops,
unable to care about the drop,
this knot was tied as I left my cell.
The plasters soft and falls away,
chiseled with a simple knife
I waiver rights to an unwanted life.
Brooks was here...returning my book.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out