No clothes
No shoes
No lights
No food
Child being raised by a child
Leave struggles with no rules
So no school was the road
Stuck in poverty nowhere to go
Just another lost soul
They don’t care to help
So we don’t care to do whatever
Stealing cars and rob just to feel better
The cells in jail
Where they rather put us
Instead of getting us real help
We just a product of our environment
We just trying to make it
They just trying to take it
But we hold on stand strong
Like a knife going through fire
We become stronger after the fire
Pain could become a distraction if you allow it
Pain could also be strength if you use it right
No matter what keep your head high
At the end it’s always light

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The poets featured here are currently incarcerated, and many of them are in federal prisons far from home. Your feedback is a valuable source of motivation and connection to the outside community. Post your comments, feedback, and encouragement in the space below the poem. Messages will be passed on directly to the author. Comments may not appear immediately on the site, as our team processes them to mail to the poets.