Twelve Years to Life

It's an extended metaphor for school.

The cell unlocks,
and my feet drag as
I am forced out.
I will never make bail,
for my sentence is for life.
Brawn never brains
rule this prison
of gangs divided.

Several guards
shackle my hands.
They silence my mouth
and threaten with guns.

One memory afflicts me,
burdening my daily routine.
A guard stares at me,
glaring through the bars.
I am his garbage,
to be kicked around
like the other pieces.

I plead,
I beg,
I hold back the tears
in my futile attempts
to prove my innocence.
I am his guilty prisoner,
and nothing more.