Waking up every day to a life filled with struggle, still I carry on.
For the people in my life depending on me, I carry on.
Though circumstances may bring me to the edge of my sanity, still I carry on.
For my mother, for my sisters, and for my baby girl, I carry on.
Like a soldier in this game of life,
always ready for war,
like Shakur, like Hannibal, like Garvey, and many more.
My determination for a life of quality empowers me to seek higher ground.
Not land, the landscape of a towering mind: indomitable, undaunted, and undeterred by the passage of seemingly fruitless time.
Because I have no choice, I carry on.
For to resign is to die a coward’s death — that means I didn’t try.
I carry on because I’m made like that, and because I haven’t time to cry.
Adversity does its worst to me, yet I’m at my best.
And I’m blessed because I passed the test of life.
Oh yes! I must confess sometimes I stress, and still I carry on.
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.