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May 2017
The metal bars and concrete that surround me are not what confines me. It is the legacy of pain and misery that I left behind me. A place to sleep is all the same from one day to the next. Life and death come to all who exist. The streets were my school house, but the education did little to prepare me. I never could have imagined the reality of what would haunt me. Images of friends lying in their own blood, children who have no parents because of the drugs I sold. All of this is my prison, I take it everywhere with me. The ghost of my past life always haunt me. They surround me more than any guard or steel bars could you see. These are shackles of my own making. They are the result of my grim undertakings. All for a few dollars and a life I thought I wanted. Now the cost is too high for me to pay and by the broken lives I am taunted. I sit here every night and listen to the echoes of silence. In my head it is a continual song of violence. I can't shake the chains of my own making. I built my own prison with in myself by the path that I have taken.
James M Vines
Written by
James M Vines  50/M/Atlanta Georgia
(50/M/Atlanta Georgia)   
818
   SallyS and Jim Timonere
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