June 20, 2013 by WITS Editor
These coal-colored specs I gaze through at all times
Places pressure on my sight to form
A diamond cut mind.
I find justice is colder than
Liberty doesn’t live with me.
I turn the corner of no closure
To post up on the block of
To find out I have to walk
Through the fire
To make sure that it’s all over.
by Colt, a student in juvenile detention