Grew up in the projects and had many many friends,
Was a Deacon and Boy Scout, but being like Mike was the plan,
Was sexually abused by several women and kidnapped and molested by a man,
Then developed behavioral problems that no one could understand,
Quit church and abandoned the pack and with the street life made a pact,
Drug and sex addiction ruled my world, but eventually bounced back,
Started going back to school and even found a job,
Met a girl who won my heart and even surrendered my life to God,
But as soon as life was getting good was met with a roadblock — was wrongfully incarcerated.
Was a Black male in the wrong place on the wrong block.
When the jail cell closed my life had come to a halt,
My mind raced and I paced the floor a lot — I questioned God, hated the world and against the system,
developed a plot.
Vowed to seek revenge but was let free, and without any from of counseling or apology was
enraged and trapped mentally.
Hit the streets cold-hearted and consumed all the drugs I could, involved in high risk situations,
Yes the pleasure felt good, but soon realized that I’d never be understood, or accepted anywhere so believed that dying would bring me peace and free me from all the pain,
I swallowed many pills and woke up in so much pain, connected to machines and IVs hanging out my veins, dodged death once again but couldn’t dodge the bars and chains,
Was sent to prison at age twenty and i’m now thirty-five,
Diagnosed with bipolar disorder, every day is a fight to survive,
No one really wants to die, but the pain will always resurface,
and death is much better than living in a prison cell feeling worthless.
Found himself writing away the pain, having overwhelming support from family and friends, and finding a reason to carry on every day because I’m still in God’s hands.
Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.