By Rock76 on Deposit Photos

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…
Blue friend.
Now I’m living Red Sin.
Long live N-famous C. Dub,
the gunner.

Writer’s note: “C.Dub the N-famous gunner” was my childhood name.

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.

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Carnell Wingfield Jr.

Carnell Wingfield Jr. is a writer and poet incarcerated in California. He is a sociology major at Feather River College and also graduated with distinction from Blackstone Career Institute's paralegal course.