Reflections from the Inside: Original Poetry by Hassan Mccain

By Hassan McCain

A stripped-down testimony to the hardships one man faces and the origins from which they came, Reflections from the Inside is a raw expression of depression, abuse, and perseverance. Written from his bunk behind the bars of an Ohio jail cell, this collection of poetry captures the details of Eric Allen’s journey from traumatized youth, to mentor and coach, to inmate. It is an artistic onslaught of emotion. The highs are as bountiful as the lows as Eric Allen reflects on his life and how he’s ended up here.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781796098785

Hassan McCain

Hassan McCain was born and raised in Germantown, PA. He traveled the world through the US Army and developed a well-rounded wheel house of personal philosophies and beliefs. It’s been his life’s mission to spread awareness on controversial and, often, taboo subjects and through candid depictions of everyday life, his readers will enjoy an uncensored view of a young man who has experienced more than most.

Book preview

My Fellow Kings

H eavy hangs the head of the man who wears the crown.

But I’ll be damned if I let ‘em catch me looking down.

Looking forward to the future, living life for the now.

Tryna blaze a trail longer than the name of my hometown.

Germantown never felt like my home. It’s just the place where I was born.

Breaking chains, the pain remains, hardships became my norm.

Back in the beginning, I did my share of dirty deeds.

Summer, other kids went swimming, I was playing in the weeds.

Poppin’ pills, Xanax Bars that was all that I would need.

‘Til them flirty girls started spreading and I found myself in between.

Mama worked too many hours to really know what I was doing.

Older boys spreading rumors ‘bout who my sister’s screwing.

I wish I could take it back, all the relationships I ruined.

But I was struggling inside of me. Sexuality would be my undoing.

Had a couple friends around the way but I stayed mostly to myself.

A trick that would come in later when I had to move in stealth.

But as a teen, I was green, I was sloppy as a kid can be.

I’d leave traces in many spaces, a lot of father’s daughters hated me.

My best friend got jumped, I couldn’t let him fight alone.

The end result, I got expelled and I had to change my home.

Shipped to Ohio, as a redo, I guess I couldn’t have done much better.

For once I got to be a kid, Cincinnati, this is my love letter.

Thanks to you, it shined through, the earliest glimpses of who I’d be.

But I messed it up, over-filled my cup, moderation never suited me.

Eventually, after traveling the world and fighting for the army,

I reemerged and I indulged in the things that used to harm me.

I drank a lot. Pills I popped landed me in desperate situations.

I was back in Gtown, feeling let down, I knew I needed help with my frustration.

So, I reached out to a friend, I found an end, he told me to come back

To the CO I went, in astonishment, I could supplement what I thought I lacked.

As determined as I was to clean up the trash in my mind,

While you can run, you can’t hide in a place that your demons can’t find.

Many addictions, strange afflictions. Depression still haunted me.

Now, in place of drinking, I started thinking. Both had effects that daunted me.

Then, I landed a job working with kids, taking an active part in therapy.

Working with struggling youth, they weren’t so different from a younger me.

I understood their issues, after all they were misused by the people that they trusted.

And they would act out, out of self-doubt, society labeled them maladjusted.

But in truth, they were damaged youth by their childhood exploitations.

And, like me, to some degree, they struggled with resisting their temptations.

When I left that job, I scored another high-profile gig.

I worked in a school; it was cool working with regular kids.

They still had struggles, mostly drug use, but I wasn’t involved in their treatment.

And like an addict, my bad habits started reemerging with no defense.

As much as their sessions were helping them, I was benefitting from the experience.

I didn’t realize how much I was suffering from not being able to hear it.

So, the long and short, I was caught in a tangled web of emotions.

Mixing depression and alcohol, has there ever been a more fatal potion?

My addiction was a cocktail of life experiences and substance abuse.

And I offer that as an explanation. Never as an excuse.

I woke up one day looking through the bars of a county jail.

With adult men who never learned to be at sea without puncturing their own sails.

And I had no guidance in that place. There’s no handbook for beginners.

Luckily, they changed my perception of inmates. I saw that they were winners.

Like me some of them had been dealt a shitty hand.

And ultimately, they planned to fail because they had failed to plan.

They lifted me up when I was at my lowest of my lows.

And for six months they stepped up. These strangers became my bros.

Many of the guys I’ve met since meandering down this road,

Have been dealing with their issues since they were just a few years old.

Some of them were raised in unstable, abusive, homes.

Many of them never told anyone what happened for fear of being alone.

And now they have this thing hanging over them for the rest of their lives.

It seems the media, immediately, strips us of our rights.

They plaster our faces on the news and, yeah, some people deserve it.

But what happened to being innocent until proven guilty? Did they desert it?

And now I’m getting out after six months of dealing