We would ace spelling bees,
break dice games for food stamps,
fold them up like a hundred Gs.
Smell my finger:
small-time players with the same “cap,”
grown men turn into R&B singers.
I’ll die for you before I know the meaning of life.
Our mom is our only love;
we never knew a wife.
You call, I come running.
Death is in our face,
feet planted and no running.
Forgive me for my Red Sin:
I received life for a crime I did not do;
I did not have the heart to kill like you.
Now I’m incarcerated and labeled as a gang member.
If I knew this would have been the outcome,
I would have been a better…
Now I’m living Red Sin.
Long live N-famous C. Dub,
Writer’s note: “C.Dub the N-famous gunner” was my childhood name.
Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. The Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned. The work is lightly edited but has not been otherwise fact-checked.