I was almost, so were you.
There are many, more than a few.
I almost finished in prison but….well, you know.
I was almost president… Well, almost mayor…
I was going to Mexico… I almost got there.
Almost made foreman on my job,
Almost didn’t need to steal or rob.
I was almost there, almost free,
You say you were almost there almost free, too?
Now you’re here with me.
How many almosts do we plan to be?
There’s no more almost now!
It’s up to you and me.

R.D. ( Bug )

I felt like sharing this poem a friend wrote years ago.

I find poetry is a way to identify with others pain. In some
silly way I believe that beling able to identify with your
thoughts we can release some of this tention.

Dickie Oppen Jr.
DOC #947545