Transcript
[no title] The streets had become a home and steady foundation, in which, I called a safe haven. I become indoctrinated in the realms of deception and dictated to by the demise of my own self destruction. The very tools I crafted and forged was the instruments, that I fell victim to. It was as if I colonized different compartments of my cerebral intelligence to propell me into the depths of an unwritten society yet to take the existence into the throes of reality. Success and the more consequential endeavors had become morally disrupted by vanity, hatred, anger, and discontent probing along the corners of my thoughts. I enlisted the aid of a catastrophic metamorphisis that altered my abilities and collided my will of desire, passion and principles that isolated the rational intent I once marvelled in exchange for a set of circumstances deemed impractical, nonconclusive, and immorally orchestrated to derail my success. The physical prison that I'm confined to now isn't as challenging as the mental bondage of anguish castrated by the demise of my own will to destroy myself. I hide behind the smiles I express, because frowning and showing the very emotions that I feel is more devastating than the incarceration itself. Nothing in prison teaches you how to cope with the depression and hardship of being isolated from society. I'm more mentally grounded by a new set of principles that materialized throughout the journey of being held beyond my freedom. Prison helps not those who are compelled to its' rules, but they're conditioned to self destruct and lose focus of morality. Prison didn't help nor encourage me to change. I did it because I didn't want to become what prison made of most people. There's not much good left in life, but the small bit that does remain, I want to hold on to.
