It is a short version of my life to date but compared with some stories around me it isn't even so bad. So a lot of us on solitary have similar stories.
I would say now, it was not an easy life for a lot of us and no, it does not excuse what put us here but for a lot of us, we never quite understand how wrong we were living and that includes me.
If I had half the knowledge I have now when I was 18 years old, I know for a fact my life would be a lot different as would the life of the people I hurt in an attempt to make my own pain go away.
I can not change the things I have done, I can't take them back nor can I make them go away. I can't give life back to the man I took it from and to be honest I'm still not sure I would want to.
But I recognize all the wrong I did. I realize I had no right to take a life even if I felt justified. And for sure I had no right to instill fear in people and take their money for the selfish purpose of getting drugs to escape my own life.
And though a lot of people doubt it's possible, I have changed and am changing every day.
Will it free me from prison? No, it won't. But becoming a better man for me is a purpose in itself. It feels good to see a better man staring back at me in my crusty little mirror.
And there are a lot more convicts just like me being put through the mental torture of being isolated in the concrete boxes they call cells. We try every day against the odds to become better men. Dealing with the punishment for the hurt we caused, when for a lot of us we know no one will ever pay for the hurt they caused us, setting a lot of us off down a dirty dead end street at a young age.
I caught another convict, who was already in prison for raping an 11 year old girl, masturbating while looking at a picture of my 9 year old niece and I snapped. I completely lost it and I killed him.
Have I forgiven him for his actions? Honestly, no I havn't. But I also now can't forgive myself for the murder. Every person has some good in it and even he did also.
That being said couldn't it be just as possible that us men sitting on solitary have good in us also?
Be safe.
One man caged
Ricky
____________________________________________________
JUST ANOTHER STORY
My father died in prison, before I turned two.
My mother beat me when she drank, and beat my brother too.
Even as a baby I was stubborn, to be controlled by a fist or palm.
My mother would put beer in my bottle, just to keep me calm.
My sister was raped by my brother, and it went on for 5 years.
Yet she still offered me a shoulder, to collect my pain filled tears.
My family was insane, but it was the only family I had.
If you never had it good, you don't know when it's bad.
When I was eight years old, my mother beat me bad one day.
I showed up to school black and blue, and they finally took me away.
I felt all alone and filled with fear, living in the house of a stranger.
So I displayed each day through my actions, a heart filled with anger.
Filled with fear and hopelessness, I started pissing the bed.
And that went on until I turned 15, and the little boy in me was dead.
I spent time in many homes, most of the time lost and confused.
Why when I'm supposed to feel safe, am I always being abused?
In a strangers home I was beaten bad, at a very young age.
And it went on and on until I snapped, and flew into a rage.
I attacked the man dishing out the abuse, and I was charged with assault.
So I was physically and mentaly abused, and now it was my fault.
At least in the child detention center, the abuse finally stopped.
I was almost disappointed, when the charges were actually dropped.
So I closed my mind and built a wall, as I went from home to home.
Me against a fucked up world, as I let my broken heart roam.
Throughout all of this, most of my family went away.
But I was almost a man now, so that seemed okay.
I learned the hard way, that I was the only one who cared for me.
So fuck the world and everyone in it, that's how life would be.
At 18 years old with a wandering soul, I ran the dirty streets.
Not knowing it wouldn't be long, before my destiny I would meet.
I finally found a reason to live, I would go insane today.
Cocaine gave me motivation, and took all my pain away.
Cocaine became my goal in life, I always had to have it.
I would lie, chaet and steal, anything for the habit.
I would say cocaine stole my life, but I gave life away myself.
I was sentenced to natural life at 27, I can blame no one else.
Things have happened in my life, I can't begin to understand.
Two years into my sentence, I killed a man with my hands.
It's hard to believe that has been, over four years ago.
Who would of thought this cell, for that long would be the life I know.
I can't claim innocense, or say my crimes should be dismissed.
But neighter can I agree, that me or anyone deserves this.
So I lay awake at night, in my own little hell.
Knowing that me and me alone, got me into this tiny cell.
I can't feel sorry for myself, for I am not alone.
Thousands of prisoners like me, sing the same sad song.
I don't write all this, so the reader will feel sorry for me.
Because as bad as it sounds, in here it's just another story.
by Ricky Silva, July 2013
Will it free me from prison? No, it won't. But becoming a better man for me is a purpose in itself. It feels good to see a better man staring back at me in my crusty little mirror.
And there are a lot more convicts just like me being put through the mental torture of being isolated in the concrete boxes they call cells. We try every day against the odds to become better men. Dealing with the punishment for the hurt we caused, when for a lot of us we know no one will ever pay for the hurt they caused us, setting a lot of us off down a dirty dead end street at a young age.
I caught another convict, who was already in prison for raping an 11 year old girl, masturbating while looking at a picture of my 9 year old niece and I snapped. I completely lost it and I killed him.
Have I forgiven him for his actions? Honestly, no I havn't. But I also now can't forgive myself for the murder. Every person has some good in it and even he did also.
That being said couldn't it be just as possible that us men sitting on solitary have good in us also?
Be safe.
One man caged
Ricky
____________________________________________________
JUST ANOTHER STORY
My father died in prison, before I turned two.
My mother beat me when she drank, and beat my brother too.
Even as a baby I was stubborn, to be controlled by a fist or palm.
My mother would put beer in my bottle, just to keep me calm.
My sister was raped by my brother, and it went on for 5 years.
Yet she still offered me a shoulder, to collect my pain filled tears.
My family was insane, but it was the only family I had.
If you never had it good, you don't know when it's bad.
When I was eight years old, my mother beat me bad one day.
I showed up to school black and blue, and they finally took me away.
I felt all alone and filled with fear, living in the house of a stranger.
So I displayed each day through my actions, a heart filled with anger.
Filled with fear and hopelessness, I started pissing the bed.
And that went on until I turned 15, and the little boy in me was dead.
I spent time in many homes, most of the time lost and confused.
Why when I'm supposed to feel safe, am I always being abused?
In a strangers home I was beaten bad, at a very young age.
And it went on and on until I snapped, and flew into a rage.
I attacked the man dishing out the abuse, and I was charged with assault.
So I was physically and mentaly abused, and now it was my fault.
At least in the child detention center, the abuse finally stopped.
I was almost disappointed, when the charges were actually dropped.
So I closed my mind and built a wall, as I went from home to home.
Me against a fucked up world, as I let my broken heart roam.
Throughout all of this, most of my family went away.
But I was almost a man now, so that seemed okay.
I learned the hard way, that I was the only one who cared for me.
So fuck the world and everyone in it, that's how life would be.
At 18 years old with a wandering soul, I ran the dirty streets.
Not knowing it wouldn't be long, before my destiny I would meet.
I finally found a reason to live, I would go insane today.
Cocaine gave me motivation, and took all my pain away.
Cocaine became my goal in life, I always had to have it.
I would lie, chaet and steal, anything for the habit.
I would say cocaine stole my life, but I gave life away myself.
I was sentenced to natural life at 27, I can blame no one else.
Things have happened in my life, I can't begin to understand.
Two years into my sentence, I killed a man with my hands.
It's hard to believe that has been, over four years ago.
Who would of thought this cell, for that long would be the life I know.
I can't claim innocense, or say my crimes should be dismissed.
But neighter can I agree, that me or anyone deserves this.
So I lay awake at night, in my own little hell.
Knowing that me and me alone, got me into this tiny cell.
I can't feel sorry for myself, for I am not alone.
Thousands of prisoners like me, sing the same sad song.
I don't write all this, so the reader will feel sorry for me.
Because as bad as it sounds, in here it's just another story.
by Ricky Silva, July 2013
Great poem! Stay strong!!
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