They don't know how it feels

By Tim Rogers
(fellow inmate at Lancaster Work Camp)

I’m a teenaged convicted felon and property of the state,
There’s thousands of Youthful Offenders who can relate,
But for those who’ve never experienced this hell on Earth,
They will never acknowledge what their freedom is worth.
This prison life is as real as it gets,
But they don’t know how it feels to live in regret,
Wishing time could rewind to go back in the past,
In order to dispel this curse I’ve been cast.
My consequences used to be referrals and detentions,
Never imagined I would be in the Department of Corrections,
Serving years in this hell seems completely surreal,
So I understand why they don’t know how it feels.
I’ve been forced to roam in this unfamiliar jungle,
Where every day is hard times, but I refuse to crumble,
No matter how many letters I send out to explain,
They will never feel my hurt or understand my pain.
Prison’s a cold world and even though I want some heat,
Only the strong survive here so I refuse to be weak.
It’s a whole different world on the inside of these gates,
So I adapt to my surroundings ‘cause it’s either eat or get ate.
They say if this doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger,
But I don’t know if I can deal with this stress any longer.
I’ve grown numb to this pain, I’ve become painless,
They say they know pain, yet have no clue what pain is.