Life Without Parole

Locked up within these walls
Behind gates and fences tall,
Feeling like a convicted criminal
Condemned to the job inside.

No easy way or probable parole,
Just day in and day out,
Coming back to this shithole.
Why do I do this job at all?

Three hots and the parking lot
Are all that really matter.
Like a gazelle for the gate after work
And slouching back in like a turtle.

I wonder how am I free,
Rules and regulations and policies
Are each and everywhere I turn,
Just like these inmates incarcerated here.

Why so melancholy my soul,
Why so seemingly low?
It's just my job and livelihood,
Like life without parole.