24/12/2019
I am a picture of good health
Cholesterol
Blood Sugar
White blood cell count
Solid heart
And the heavy smoking
Hasn’t hobbled me yet
But still no one knows
My troubles but god
I work out
Best shape of my life
And I have my mantras
And my mindfulness
But still no one knows
My troubles but god
I’ve got a place to live
A job lined up
And a new girl on the scene
But still no one knows
My troubles but god
The meds work
And the voices are gone
Anti-Psychotic, Anti-Depressant
Success stories
But still no one knows
My troubles but god
Someday it will all pour out of me
The pain, the heartache, the wasted years
But still I fear
That god may have in store for me
A storm that destroys
All the good I’ve worked so hard for
And still no one knows
My troubles but god
—
The longer I spent locked up the harder I tried to improve myself. I drew portraits, learned French, worked out, meditated, wrote poetry and wrote a book. I conquered my mental health demons and had a job and a place lined up for when I was released. Still I’ve never shared the gritty details about the pain of the first few years of jail and the perfect storm that led to my incarceration. I’m not religious but I find a lot of the concepts, imagery and language of religion captures the sentiments that I desire to express.
