Freedom writing

"On-Unit"

The minute you reach up to a unit, some of the women emerge to the front of their tiny cages to see if they know me.
I'm new here so I believe they don't know.
"Do I even know me anymore?" bounces through my clueless mind.
The female guard is ushering me into an empty mildly sanitized room.

Still trying to deal with the new circumstances I started to make a bed and lay.

I feel so clouded out, my mind is tired but still fighting to race.
I'm still a bit shocked my freedom has been taken.
I'll need to wait for a judge because they had me caught up with some possession charges now.
It had been my first set of charges.

Plenty would follow little did I know.

I was young and vulnerable, I ended up selling drug's on the street full time for about several years.
My conviction record is vast, today it holds me back in my adult life.
If I could tell the young generation choose wisely I would.

Back to the unit.

The next day everyone realizes I am new to the unit, lifer ladies see a new face in the crowd.
I actually ended up knowing one of the lady's on my unit.
She was very helpful at explaining what the process of being locked up was all about.
I still felt depressed because this was straight bull shit.
I would put some money on that phone card think that lady mentioned.
I also had this ten digit convict number below my picture on a plastic card.
I can pay ninety cents to call my people on the phone for thirty minutes.
Not going to lie I called my mom with that shitty card. I cried to her about my shitty life choices.

Soon I figured out that what these bitch ass C.O. Are trying to do with us.
They got us rotating around the jail getting us forced into some sort of schedule.
With the yard and program's they have us all twisted.
Everyone is all coming and going, lawyer's meetings lead into court.
Sometimes everyone is out of cell, and on the unit eating or conversing with each other.
The main goal of everyone Is that they want out of that shit hole.

In reality just trying to get back to business back on the streets leading there shitty little lives.

That would be another sentence running through my mind every second of everyday "What the fucking hell am I doing in here?!"
Yelling at my self in my own quiet despair.
Nobody hearing but my lonely ass.

Envying these birch ass C.O. For being able to leave when they're shift done.
"Well my shift isn't done for about nine more months hoe!".