Skills For Life Prison Ministry changing lives through servant leadership and communication skills. This program needs to be in our nation's schools.

 

Inmate Letters


 

Letter from Jerome T.D.

THE TRUTH’ A RARE BREED OF MAN
 

“Life is what you make it,” words quoted by my mother.
She gave me the best advice, some I accepted better than others.
“Do your homework! Did you study for your test?”
I never took the time to express my teen stress.
In school, I was cool, but in the streets, I was the one.
Cars, clothes, girls – my best friend was my gun.
“Them streets gonna get your butt in jail,” she would yell.
In no time at all momma making my bail.
Now back on the streets with no lesson learned.
Getting money to pay my lawyer to avoid prison is my only concern.
“The things you are doing will lead you to a bad outcome.”
“Momma, I gotta stay free to see the birth of my son”
I avoid the penitentiary or Satan, as granny would say.
My son is born, I’m a family man, working, surviving day by day.
In no time at all I’m back in the game, to the streets I’m J Dee.
To my family I’m Jermaine, one man, two lives; I’m wearing a disguise.
One full of deceit, no religion, just lies.
“Your back to your old tricks,” my mother would scream.
My baby’s momma on my team, I got her down with my schemes.
I got everything I wanted, money made my life smooth.
It was nothing but greed that fed my bad attitude.
“The fuel to the fire is the bad company that’s kept, association brings simulation.”
But momma, I’m addicted to wealth.
“Everyone’s out to get me,” is what I would say, so it seems.
My relationship with my son’s mother comes to an end.
I’m asked, “Jermaine, why are you so mean?”
Why am I tripping? The disease of greed attacks me like cancer,
Refusing to acknowledge my creator, so I receive no answer.
“If you violate your probation, you’re going to be gone for a long time”
Ignore my mother, saying to myself, she’s losing her mind.
Now in the back of the cop car to the county I ride.
I’m lost, no one to turn to, I got Satan on my side.
I call my son’s mother from jail to explain my situation.
She begins to cry as she listens, she knows my destination.
“20 years is what I sentence you,” as the hammer was slammed.
I turn and face the courtroom, see my people cry and say, “damn”.
All that runs through my mind is, where I went wrong.
Picturing an aggie in my hand, in the field singing plantation songs.
Wondering how Jaylan’s life would be without my existence.
These are the questions I ask when my family come to visit.
Well, I finally found God and realize he is in control.
I got rid of all the demons; Satan no longer has a hold.
“You found your purpose in life,” my mother would say.
“I hurt a lot of people, I have a message to convey.”
I pray that my apologies are accepted by everyone I love.
My confessions are a blessing.
My destination, the heavens above.
As I sit here and write this, I hope you all understand.
My apology is sincere.

J. T. D.