As a Gypsy, he had traveled the world, never capable of keeping his hand off of what was not his. This destructive adrenalin has now been fully reconciled. He had stolen his own life. Nothing's ever been, in his hands, more important than his own life's journey. Now here he is, demanding an undeserved control, attempting external gratification. Yet, his ignorance and transgressions are to remind him of just how deserving he really is. This life here at this time becomes a penance. Most cannot learn from a place like this, and the others... well, they belong here. I won't advocate for the Colorado Penitentiary, nor for my peers around me. These are lost souls... If they ever really were souls. Here are the poems of just one convict's experience as he blindly sought to be more than a statistic, to no avail. Sean M. Wright