Street-wise, gun-toting youth
wallowing around in the dirt,
Gunfires, man died, life sentence really hurt
world crumbles, all around you is gloomy,
situations beyond belief.
Jail cell the size of a dog’s kennel,
dear John letter from the one you thought was love,
Slow pain is like a slow burn,
most of your friends’ backs are turned,
all seems lost,
this tunnel is long —
there’s no light in your future,
so to you right is wrong.
Then your world collapsed
as you got the news:
your granny passed away —
now you got the blues.
The thoughts scamper through your mind
invitations of suicide,
you twist the rope,
mix the poison,
prepare for your single-man genocide.
Your life is shattered,
nothing to live for,
no need to try all you can.
Then out of the blue
the sun comes up
as you receive a letter from a friend.
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.