I walk down halls, of concrete and stares.
Among the monsters, worse than nightmares.
With endless exposure to shanks and disease.
And to all of these felons, I still must say please.
The public is sheltered, kept safe from any harm.
While my heart is racing, I respond to the alarm.
An man is lying, face down on the floor.
Inmates are yelling, cut him some more.
With bare hands, and courage from above.
The disturbance is quelled without raising a glove.
We clear the compound, and lock down the range.
For us inside, this is normal, not strange.
Behind these walls I’ve seen my share.
To the most horrible acts, I don’t seem to care.
Violence and bloodshed are now part of my life.
I pray to God, don’t let me take this home to my wife.
We spend our lives working in Hell.
Our stories are secret, we’ve no one to tell.
We serve in silence, no cheers or parades.
Yet the country is safer, by the service we made.
By T.G. Campbell, LIE
Federal Bureau of Prisons
