Every day my soul feels locked in
I look for an escape but
none arrives. I sit and
think how to survive,
The pain inside my soul,
my eyes and mind
look for that open door the anger
boils up no matter how hard I try to keep it
suppressed.
I try to figure out all the answers to this test
Everyday my soul fights to stay alive
Under these circumstances it's easy to
die, I try
to keep my eye on the prize
which is my release date.
hoping this destiny doesn't dish me
another mistake
life is what we make it
so they say
if that's so true I know not one of us wanted it
this way. I push forward with my head
held high
waiting for the day my soul feels alive
it's been a wild ride
I guess that's just the facts of life
I came to the conclusion that every day my soul feels like the rest of the souls
trying to comprehend these so called thrills
that bring chills up our spine
and cause so much pain
turning our lives into political game
I know I will make every move count and have faith
that my soul will rebound and bounce back from this state
of consciousness
that has deteriorated my heart to shattered pieces.
I guess my only advice is don't let life defeat you.
As I sit
and reminisce on the old
days, I can see myself at a younger
age, with that I don't give a fuck
attitude,
struggling to be accepted into a broken society,
with no morals or values.
I became lost misguided by my fascination with adventure
I started to figure
out how to be a man in this so called man's world, no father
to teach me right from
wrong,
I figured out how to hold my keep, first order of
operation
was learning how to speak the language,
to control my surrounding
arrangements,
then came violence,
creating fear in the next man,
gave me respect,
that I needed to prosper in the American snake
pit, the streets ended up being my calling
so I thought.
I picked up a couple of jobs
for some chump change,
but could never accept calling someone else the
boss, this attitude always helped me fight for
control
manipulating the weak minds of those who accepted this concept
to my advantage
I will never forget the day I picked up the meth
pipe and blew out that cloud of demons.
The days grew so dark
I became a great white shark
I had this fuck the world attitude
with a ski mask and
a gun
my pockets were always fat,
I made people beg for their life
I jacked them off their hard earned money
it became a thrill
that sent chills
through the spine of the city around me.
I learned to adapt and blend in with
anyone I became a chameleon with
fangs
I was a survivalist
surviving by any means necessary that
caused me to hit rock bottom,
Now I am sitting in this dark
dungeon, I have pushed those who
care away.
I lost all my prized possessions.
I start to panic. I thought I had it
all, now I have nothing,
nobody is around.
I cannot see it's so dark.
I try to talk
nobody answers
Now I am in this cell
learning a new game
no longer blinded by the rat race.
I am now on this new adventure
within myself
As I sit
and reminisce on the old
days, I can see myself at a younger
age, with that I don't give a fuck
attitude,
struggling to be accepted into a broken society,
with no morals or values.
I became lost misguided by my fascination with adventure
I started to figure
out how to be a man in this so called man's world, no father
to teach me right from
wrong, I figured out how to hold my keep, first order of
operation
was learning how to speak the language,
to control my surrounding
arrangements,
then came violence,
creating fear in the next man,
gave me respect,
that I needed to prosper in the American snake
pit, the streets ended up being my calling
so I thought.
I picked up a couple of jobs
for some chump change,
but could never accept calling someone else the
boss, this attitude always helped me fight for
control
manipulating the weak minds of those who accepted this concept
to my advantage
I will never forget the day I picked up the meth
pipe and blew out that cloud of demons.
The days grew so dark
I became a great white shark
I had this fuck the world attitude
with a ski mask and
a gun
my pockets were always fat,
I made people beg for their life
I jacked them off their hard earned money
it became a thrill
that sent chills
through the spine of the city around me.
I learned to adapt and blend in with
anyone I became a chameleon with
fangs
I was a survivalist
surviving by any means necessary that
caused me to hit rock bottom,
Now I am sitting in this dark
dungeon, I have pushed those who
care away. I lost all my prized possessions.
I start to panic. I thought I had it
all, now I have nothing,
nobody is around.
I cannot see it's so dark.
I try to talk
nobody answers
Now I am in this
cell
learning a new
game
no longer blinded by the rat race.
I am now on
this new
adventure
within
myself
This poem, one of my last pieces of writing while in New Folsom State Prison, is my conclusion to prison traumatic stress disorder. I was released August 12, 2015.