Count Time - Poetry by Inmates

The officer just passed my door,
His boots are pounding on the floor.
This same thing happens eight times a day,
And every time I start to pray.
See this is count time in the pen,
But see there’s something better just listen.
There is a book sealed with seven seals,
That will be opened after seven trumpet peals.
It will be read when God comes to earth,
After He has squashed all the mirth.
I know my name is in this book,
I don’t have to ask, don’t have to look.
See I am anxious for this time,
Because you see it’s the final count time.

  ~ Leroy Faulkner 1165383<br /> St. Joseph, Missouri