Prisons don't Belong in Playgrounds

I am no ill thing poisoning the earth, I am not a nuisance, yet why do I feel so?

Why am I moved to distaste when in review of my fate?

Must I suffer all eternity, for the past crime? Too horrible to be uttered but a sin completely mine?

We are taught to be distraught when your worth is low.

Like worry is ingrained in our very souls.

And to be rich is "relaxed", Successful but sinful.

No middle road at the crossroads between poor and rich.

Now you live with regrets of being a child with folly, When that youthful view is all we need to overcome.

Prisons don't belong in playgrounds or vice versa.

The laughter of the young drowning out the worry.

This peace is a piece of what we need, on the path to love, we will succeed.