jamesy boy

In my mind, there’s a boy who exists in chains. Inside a cold, dark room of painful solitude is where he will remain.Behind these walls, the sorrow is inevitable, as relentless as the passage of time. Mentalities corrupt and dark,brainwashed, and hopelessly blind.Prisons are packed with crowded spaces, lifers and guards with hollow faces. Shackled hearts afraid of changes,and weakened wills become complacent.Yet, I maintain with patience, time can limit but not shatter my will, strength blazed across my chest as solid as penitentiary steel. But the silence speaks, it tells me all I need to hear, it confirms my beliefs and its promises I have to fear. It reminds me that without freedom, I’m alone. And these whitewashed walls don’t make up for blackened souls. I’ve given 95% of my boys a handshake than a pound, before they were either locked down or buried off in cemetery grounds. What I’ve done is who I am, but who I am is what I do now. I won’t let up or cease to fight. Just time, I plan on doing it right. And what’s right lies within me. I’m learning to appreciate my struggle for it would be hard to find the joy of accomplishment without it. We live and we learn. We rise and we fall. Like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant, with bittersweet dreams. Stay up, never down.
—  James Burns, Jamesy Boy
In my mind, there’s a boy
who exists in chains.
Inside a cold, dark room
of painful solitude
is where he will remain.
Behind these walls
the sorrow is inevitable,
as relentless as
the passage of time.
Mentalities corrupt and dark,
brainwashed,
and hopelessly
blind.
Prisons are packed
with crowded spaces,
lifers and guards with
hollow faces.
Shackled hearts
afraid of changes,
and weakened wills
become complacent.
Yet, I maintain with patience,
time can limit
but not shatter my will,
strength blazed across my chest
as solid as
penitentiary steel.
But the silence speaks,
it tells me all I need to hear,
it confirms my beliefs and its
promises I have to fear.
It reminds me that without
freedom, I’m alone.
And these whitewashed walls
don’t make up
for blackened souls.
I’ve given 95% of my boys
a handshake than a pound,
before they were either locked
down or buried off
in cemetery grounds.
What I’ve done is who I am,
but who I am is what I do now.
I won’t let up or cease
to fight.
Just time,
I plan on doing it right.
And what’s right
lies within me.
I’m learning to
appreciate my struggle
for it would be hard to find
the joy of accomplishment
without it.
We live and we learn.
We rise and we fall.
Like the heartbeat
of a sleeping giant,
with bittersweet dreams.
Stay up, never down.
—  Jamesy Boy