Freedom?
Yeah I’ve heard of it
Thought maybe once I was
On my way there…
Ha! Joke’s on me
Another two years older
and wearing the same damn yellow suit
same fuckin address, same
#2 pencils
But hey! the commissary got a little better!
Movin’ up in the world.

Freedom?
Ahh, what a concept!
sounds real nice
looks good on most folks I know
but on me it looks like shit!
like used up dope pipes, needles
and prostitution
like death walkin’ by, a bag of bones
covered with pasty skin &
bearing a BAD attitude

Freedom…
An idea I don’t think I’m
too keen on just yet.
Yeah, they’re probably right, I’m gonna screw
up everything again and end up back
in the slammer cuz I’m a misfit,
an outlaw & I CHOOSE this life. Right?

Choose to be locked up and forgotten.
Choose bars & lonliness & bein’ told when I’am allowed to
shut my eyes & walk outside.

Freedom?
I’d say I lost that a long time ago
when I was seventeen & found my
friend, crystal meth.
Found a way out, a way in
& a way around.
Feeling the nothingness of life
& here I am
still trying to fight it,
figure out a way to stop fuckin’ up
& stay sober, stay clean
cuz I want freedom?
But why, cuz it looks good on most
people I know
but on me it looks like shit
like confusion, strangers in my bed
dirty needles &
regret.

(the prison requires that we not publish the author’s name)