“We Got to Get Out of Here” a poem by Eric King

We got to get outta here

But no one brought ropes!

The wall is a shoebox

And we are all heels

Tied up right

So we don’t slip off

If we snuck out, nice & quiet

We might end up seeing

All the slave runners

Who sent their kids to Uni

On the back of our 300 minutes

And once a week visits

Then who could tell

Which was the bad guy

And who maybe had bad luck?

We got a skip this pond

Did you bring the stones?

We got to melt this candle

We’ve misplaced the wic!

everything is backwards,

We are losing our grip

this concrete floor is a graveyard

Cold like are shaking bones

Relentless like our will to be free

Unmovable Like These Bars

We got to get free

We got to bring it ourselves

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