The Cycle

I scare myself by the man I am becoming. A shadowed reflection, dark and numbing. Mostly scared that once I am free, I won’t find the path to who I want to be.

I’ve seen countless homies walk out the gate, only to return within months, sealed by fate. Their dreams, like mine, of a better life. Crushed by the weight of endless strife.

Is this my destiny, a revolving door, an endless battle on a distant shore? Happiness and freedom, elusive and rare. Slipping through fingers like smoke in the air.

Will I be like those I call friend, I call brother, trapped in a cycle, one after another? I fear the answer that lingers near, a life of sorrow, bound by fear.

In this cell, my heart breaks anew, haunted by thoughts of a future askew. Dreams I once held, now fading fast, a life of hope, shadows of the past.

I scare myself with the man I might become, a hollow echo, a beating drum. Will I be free, yet never truly at peace? A soul adrift, longing for release?

I see their faces, those who’ve come and gone. Their spirits broken, their hope withdrawn. Will I be another statistic in this cruel game? A name forgotten, lost to shame?

I yearn for a chance, a glimmer of light. To break these chains, to win this fight. But fear grips tight, a merciless foe, In this revolving door, will I find a way to grow?

I scare myself, but I hold on tight, to the flicker of hope in the darkest night. For though I fear the path ahead, I dream of a life where my soul is led.

Not by the shadows of my past, but by a future, bright and vast. To break the cycle, to stand and see, a world of freedom, a chance to be.

So here I sit, with a heart that’s torn. Fighting the fear of a life reborn. In this prison, I strive to mend. To find a way, to a brighter end.