Women come to prison having no shame
Thinking being in this world is all a game,
Laughing about violence
Crying about drugs
Not because of what it's done to their life
But because they can't get none.
They walk this place
Strung out from their high
Not realizing it's killing them
slowly inside.
Do you think they wonder if their family is okay?
The only time they pick up the phone is to see
If their money's on the way,
Not to see if the baby's fine, or the kids went to school
today
They can't face reality
Life's too damn short
Coming in and out of prison like it's a sport
The plot to this poem is very simple and true
In here is like out there
The drug's using you!
You're a puppet to a substance
That Satan has preserved
You can ask for help, no need for words.
Lift up your hands,
Give your habit to the Lord!
Leticia Cortes W#45898-5-D-30-2U P.O. Box 1508 Chowchilla, CA 93610-1508