"A letter from a man incarcerated"

I could use a helping hand if ya'll can understand

Jail was never a part of the plans but here I stand,

sit, lay, and contemplate about ways to make it through.

It's virtually impossible to be rehabilitated dealing with the shit that I go through.

Education is slim to none for those with a diploma or GED

and the prices for college correspondence courses I won't even talk about

cause jobs are few and far between. Shit, I don't even have a t.v.

can't get a trade cause the waiting list is years long

same for any other program outside of a religious one

but everybody doesn't believe in some sort of God

so I don't fault the people that crumble. I know I just aint gonna be one.

Even though mail I don't get and commissary I rarely see,

I get a visit once every blue moon literally cause my supporting case in five words

just...aint...fucking...with....me.

So can I call them a supporting cast?

I doubt it seriously.

So on my own

one day at a time

I push forward

cause regardless life goes on

and at the end of the day

all I got is me

so until one is extended

I'll wait patiently for my release date to come

but that doesn't mean I aint smart enough to accept a helping hand

nor am I blind to the fact that I need one.

Holding my hand is hard

because I'm scarred, bitter, and confused

and misunderstood above all, but I could never be broken.