In my mind, there's a boy who exists in chains. Inside a cold, dark room of painful solitude is where he will remain. Behind these walls the sorrow is inevitable, as relentless as the the passage of time. Mentalities corrupt and dark, brainwashed and hopelessly blind. Prisons are packed with crowded spaces, lifers and guards with hollow faces. Shackled hearts afraid of changes and weakened wills become complacent. Yet, I maintain with patience, time can limit but not shatter my will, strength blazed across my chest as solid as penitentiary steel. But the silence speaks, it tells me all I need to hear, it confirms my beliefs and it promises I have to fear. It reminds me that without freedom, I'm alone. And these whitewashed walls don't make up for blackened souls. I've given 95% of my boys a handshake than a pound, before they were either locked down or buried off in cemetery grounds. What I've done is who I am but who I am is what I do now. I won't let up or cease to fight. Just time, I plan on doing it right. And what's right lies within me. I'm learning to appreciate my struggle for it would be hard to find the joy of accomplishment without it. We live, we learn. We rise we fall. Like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant, with bittersweet dreams. Stay up, never down.
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