WHEN ANGER TURNS TO HATE

First, I want this clear, none of you; none of you can know anger like I’ve known. If you want a taste of real anger that turns into hate, come spend 1,095 days in solitary, that’s three-years, man.

I don’t like criminals; they’re in the gutter. Just ‘cause I’m here doesn’t make me one of them, I was framed. Yea, I was framed by my girlfriend’s sister, Aggie. Her husband beat her up real good and she blamed me ’cause she’s afraid of him.

Well, I got three-months in the county jail, but was falsely accused of beating up two other inmates. That added six more months that I nearly got through. I had one week left when someone took the book my Mom had brought me.

I had a pretty good idea which low-life took it, so I cornered him for a little talk. I really did intend talkin’ and get’n my book back; to bad there were witnesses. They said I went bonkers and beat his head against the bars. The truth is none of ’em liked me and made out it was worse than I remember. He must have had a soft head or something,

This unfortunate turn of events landed me in solitary for the month it took the judge to send me to the State prison for eighteen more months.

Now, you tell me, wouldn’t you be building up a good anger; I didn’t do nothing to start with, and been railroaded into doin’ near four years.

I ain’t never been a bad guy, ask Mom; nothin’ more than fights, shoplifting, and a couple drunk charges.

I reckon the only reason I wrote this is to tell you, this. During this stretch in solitary my anger just went away. Now I hate; it’s a lot better than anger. I can now plan instead of react, and man; I’m goin’ to do some real damage when I get out of here.