Prisoner 6593-430
I don’t have a name I have a number
Will my kids ever call me Dad?
Will I know when they call me?
Do they know I’m really not that bad?
When I hear my name will I remember?
Or will my number shout out loud?
Is it because my skin is darker
To them I stand out in a crowd?
The men with sticks they stop to beat me
Because there God is not the same as mine.
They say I’ve killed for my religion
But I still drink the blood of wine.
The orange suit in which they dress me
Only hides all the bloodied scars
And I pray next time my children hold me
It won’t be from behind these racist bars.
One day my children will get to see me
One day they will get to call me Dad
I hope they never get to see my terror
Or the suffering I have had.
I don’t have a name I have a number
I will survive and make them see
Just because we have a different religion
It doesn’t mean I can’t be free.
I don’t have a name I have a number
Will my kids ever call me Dad?
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