Does my suffering makes me invisible to you, am I so repulsive that my humanity is lost upon you, are the tears in my eyes not evidence enough that I am hurting, hurting because my mind is shattering underneath the weight of so much inhumane treatment, treatment that denies me simple acts of kindness from those claiming moral superiority... people who walk around as if the perfection of them should be obvious and recognizable, but it is not, because it doesn't exist... or is it all in my mind that you see me different because of my pain, because I have fallen to such a level where empathy and compassion are non existent due to my confinement... or is it just your unwillingness to understand me because we chose different paths in life, and you feel yourself better than me, it must be, because why else would you deny me kindness, why else would you turn your back on my injustice, when justice should be extended against the beating heart of the universe...? Can you see the candle burn...

The difficulty it takes trying to wrap my mind around this level of injustice, it's just too inhumane to be ingested, to absorb the particles of it's degradation on the face of it's merits, is to find yourself depressed and mentally angered for every second that you bare it... Because there's not one person on the face of the planet, that doesn't desire to be treated fairly, so how can you not hear me, when I am speaking so very clearly, or maybe you are not listening to my suffering because you are afraid to come near me, thinking that my pain may touch you and force you to treat me dearly... Why would you walk blindly around, disregarding the fate of the downtrodden, the ones who've been forgotten, the ones who are battered and bruised by a prison system that sees us as being rotten, I guess to see is to care, but that character trait must be at your bottom, seeing as though you refuse to lift a hand and offer some aid by simply saying I got you... Instead, yo...

It started with a phone call from my son's mother telling me she was pregnant with my child, and as a seventeen year old immature adolescent, I didn't know what to do with that information. I remember her talking about what we were going to do, and me blanking out on the phone and hanging up because I couldn't coherently fathom what that meant for me. I sat stunned for about fifteen minutes replaying what she said and just thinking about my life and the things I had done up to that point. I was a drug dealer, a womanizer, a liar, a cheat and an overall piece of shit. I had nothing meaningful to give a child, no morals, values or courage to do the right thing with my life. I am sure my mother instilled those attributes inside of me, but at the time in my life, I didn't possess any tangible characteristics worthy enough to be in the presence of a child. I was irresponsible, immature, and I cared only about my self interest. I was drawn to a void of darkness that held no v...