Fri, 09/20/2019 - 11:14 -- ORANGE


Salvation Army
804 S Parallel, Fresno CA adult rehabilitation center
United States

Metal rings placed

chains laced

around my

hands, legs, feet and waist.

How many times will I let this happen?

How many times can I let my family

be disgraced?


Swore I'd never come back here.

Weren't my prayers clear, God?

I told you I didnt want to be back in this situation

the moment I saw

those berries and cherries.

Don't you listen?

I promised I'd change.

I promised I'd find new ways

to live.

I know you've got one more chance

to give.


Now I'm sitting in a cell with 

three metal beds, a sink,

a desk, a toilet with

no lid

and it stinks like shit.

I can't handle it.

Theres filth everywere and

nothing to clean it with.


These first forty eight hours I've spent

in disbelief, on my

hands and knees

crying out 

for release but I 

can't let a single tear fall or they'll know I'm weak.

So I

just bottle it up and line up for count.

Ignoring the fact that I have enough tears to end a drought.


I've become a number in the system. 

They've broken and beaten

my personality but at least when 

I emerge from this place,

back to reality or some sort of normality,

I'll feel the sun on my face. 

Some will only see six new walls;

their only ticket to freedom a toe-tag,

death's cold embrace.


This poem is about: 
My family


Annette M Velasquez

Honest, vivid, gritty and raw. You've described the realities of incarceration precisely. Check out my "metamorphosis" poem, and others I posted on the same subject.

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