Everyone says “I’m lucky”,
“you’re on your way home”,
“it’s over now!”,
“I know you’re happy”,
How can people find joy in sorrow?
Or hope in the middle of despair?
Have you ever jumped rope with barbwire?
Or hula hooped with a ring of fire?
My rubics cube of thoughts,
finds me removing stickers for help.
It’s the magic trick with the handkerchief,
that’s being pulled through my ears.
I walk through land mines,
hoping to hop scotch to the last square.
Everyday there’s a camera in my face,
recording my every step, thought and dream,
still I smile, so they can enjoy it,
then I adjust my mask for comfort.
360 souls, spirits within beings,
still fragile, some being handled with care,
others broken shattered to pieces,
ripped apart, analyzed, dissected and magnified.
Who am I? Who was I?
Can I change? Did I change?
What’s the odds that I die in prison?
Will the prosecutor seek life again?
Can I make it is society?
Should I just stay in prison?
I am scared to death!
Anxiety has me thinking about thinking.
My family doesn’t know me,
all my friends are here.
And I’ve spent more years in prison,
than if I had graduated high school twice.
I rock myself to sleep every night,
knowing I will awake moments later,
because I want to right my wrongs.
But, my wrongs could never be right!
I’m a statistic, but I defy the norms,
you’re looking at the next success story.
You see, in my mind, I get it,
there can never be justice for what I’ve done.
It’ll take every breath I breathe.
But, to balance my universe on it’s axis,
I owe the service of a lifetime,
dedicated to a million and one angels.
By James Adrian