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