Fighting Odds

If the faculties I possess,

which help me to identify my emotions

and react with relative objectivity and calm

are in a sense, null and void

within the chaotic environment I exist,

whereas this environment

keeps me in the constant state of

fight or flight,

overworking my amygdala,

damn my masculinity!

Then you tell me,

where do I possibly find enough respite,

for requited emotional rest

and internal personal growth

when everything outside of me

keeps me in potential danger?

And my reality

is in constant reflection of that fact

and preparation for the unknown

which is always of impending danger.

Therefore, in prison,

I can never fully change,

because to change is to be defiant

and my defiance, in large part,

is how I became imprisoned,

though it helps me survive.

The irony

is that I’m expected to achieve something

that the environment actively seeks out

and preys upon,

so I can’t be who I want to be ultimately

while in prison

because the natural law of self preservation

and darwanisitic capitulation to survival of the fittest.

Prison made me more of what I was

and more of what I wasn’t

with an infinitely tested,

yet unwavering will

to become and stay those things.

Only time will define what those things truly are.

I could speculate

but I’ve been given enough time to sit and assess

time,

something you outside these fences have limitlessly,

yet live as if in limited supply

unconsciously spending so much of it

going against your own direction.