"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
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.