Illustration by fotographic1980 via Depositphotos

I could rhyme about my past but it’s too damn depressing,
so I write about my future, and I admit, it’s a blessing,
being tested everyday by life’s hard lessons,
no medication just meditation, healed by the sound of silence,
I’m not a fan of the music that be degraded people and promoting the violence,
I like the sound of a smooth melody with a message that’s timeless.
I’m not the finest, but I do get Better with time, like a little black berry when it turns into wine. I’m doing fine so don’t
ask me what’s on my mind when I rhyme.

why?

Everybody wants to know why? when why doesn’t even matter,
when you’re standing there looking at blood splatter,

hold that thought
read yo mind
paralyzed
I sympathized
that’s no lie
forget why between the lines
black and white
a shade of gray
in the sky
rain drops
tear drops
closed casket
black ghetto bastards
trailer trash
no food
no shoes
closed schools
we’re going down
in the ground
prison bound
they got the nerve
to ask why
why ask
you don’t care
born success
hypocrite
you’re full of it
you don’t care
stop pretending
lying politician
you don’t listen
tunnel vision
you’re not for our cause
screw your laws

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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Christopher Reece

Christopher Reece is a writer incarcerated in Michigan. He has been in prison since he was 20 years old.