I Am More Than My Crime
But I feel like I am screaming into a void
By Antwon Holcomb (Bo’arm), serving 93 years at the Hazelton federal penitentiary in West Virginia
Tears sometimes fill my eyes when I think of all the pain I have caused:
Visions of a mother crying over a casket and blood on a car door.
Was I that blind to believe that taking a soul wouldn’t make me grieve?
Was I so blind I believed a life of imprisonment was impossible for me?
Well, if I was blind I can see clearly now.
No matter what I do, regret keeps pulling me down,
hurling me through tunnels of deep depression.
I guess God’s job is to teach men a lesson.
I wonder what happens after the lesson is learned?
Am I to die in prison for the bridges I burned?
Is this my justice?
Is this my debt?
I’ll gladly die right now to take my sins back.
For years, I haven’t been the same,
I find myself abusing drugs to escape the pain.
So, I guess it’s safe to say that on that fateful day,
Two people died:
One soul went to the unknown,
and the other was left behind to roam around hell.
Can you see the fire around my steel cell?
Can you see the smoke clouding my eyes?
Still, I search for freedom inside this dark world
that breeds hate and demise.
There’s hope for redemption behind my cries.
As I burn in this fire, I scream,
I am more than my crime!
