Wonder why my life is so based on the negativity of violence?
Wonder why I don’t give a fuck how your or my life is?
Ever care why I never stop to look at you out from under my eyelids?
Doctors since the days before I was born still can’t figure out what my
Mental war is. Days after this kid was born, life began to be fucked up more.
Parents left the little baby with the agent, and away they went. Guilty
Conscience on someone’s part led a guilty thought inside an empty heart.
From that day on life was a fight, surgery at age 3. The memory remained, I
Wasn’t wanted but used, for a meal ticket… maybe a place to stay…
A single mom trying to fight each day and each night. Sometimes so uptight
She didn’t know where the food would come from or the warm bed at times.
Somebody always came through. God above I give praise to you. Life’s gone on and
We met Chuck. One more of life’s greatest fuck-up’s. They hooked up and drugged
Up and drank up… and one day…. She got knocked up. This time things didn’t
Change, they got married and he beat her ass… just like the last. Only it was worse
Cause now she had a little girl to curse with the bullshit. So along I went, for every
Beating and every party every argument and every night left with grandma and
Grandpa cause mom was too fucked up to notice how fucked up she was. And so
Along I went for these next years, a little boy named Chuck, and he came and brought
His daddy to tears. It was that day in ’93 that I got cut from that family. Off to
Grandma and grandpa’s I went, not over the river and thru the woods. But over
The dead bodies and through the hood. There I sat off and on, when mommy remembered
She had me; she’d come visit and then move on. Finally thing got bad and went to
Worse, she got divorced and then shit got a whole lot worse. DHS and my dad too,
Somewhere along the way they got brought into this life too. From the age of four,
I haven’t been myself, I seen that it was okay for mommy to do drugs and leave me
Alone all by myself. I seen it was okay to be violent and okay to runaway, okay to fuck
People over, okay to stay fucked up and do it all over. Again and again never stop, know
Nothing different from what you’re taught. Do nothing than what you are shown, act no
Different. Even when you are grown. At about age 12 I remember getting fucked up
So bad I couldn’t remember. I stayed that way for many many days…. I was straight when
I got raped. He paid the price, not like he should have though, he should have paid with
His life. I rediscovered drugs and stayed that way, my mom so caught up in drinking and
Getting laid, her friends, and getting paid… her little lost daughter just got thrown away.
When I was 14, I met my father, life was looking better, but then the shit just got hotter.
I went away, leaving behind my family… went to Des Moines to realize that what I had
Already discovered here was no different. Only worse. It meant there was no hope so like
I said, shit only got worse. Paychecks given up, lies told to cover the bruises up, handcuffs,
Drugs… way beyond what I needed to get a small buzz. Money thrown away to the drugs,
My life so messed up I tried suicide more than a few times. I never did succeed I just went
Back with my little friends, niggas, and druggies. I went back to them to try and find a home.
I never did, I was so fucking alone. Surrounded by people, I sometimes even went looking for
God inside empty steeples. There I cried, there I lay on the floor, wanting nothing more than
Just to die. I never got that wish, I never knew why. I’ve spent 99% of my life running from
One hood to the other, no father or mother, only seldom relatives that took care of this lost
Kid. And to this present day I still remain, in the hood, on the outskirts only, the call of the
Blood, drugs, and money scream my name. The memories…. Something in my brain keeps
Pushing rewind and play. I see the brains on the wall or the floor, I smell the gun smoke.
And the organs that are all over the floor. I remember the people I fucked over… I remember
The people I got killed, I remember the people I beat up, I remember all the peoples
Lives I fucked up… one way or another. I remember how I treated myself, just the same. I
Thought I was superior, really I was just the same. A drugged little slut, some called me a
Whore. I see these faces, I remember the places. I want to scream but no words or sound
Come out, just in my head. Where my eyes got fried with memories that seem like they are
Still so very, very, alive. I remember all the names, knives, lives, guns, and night skies. I remember all this
Shit for the rest of my life. I wonder how I did it, why I am still alive. I look at a grave and hate that
Person out of jealousy because they don’t hurt worse than I do. They got out I suffer a much worse fate
A memory of this life for all the days that I live, for the rest of my life. When you die does it go away?
Or does your body just die and there you lay in the grave… does the memory still remain on replay?
Is it still running in your head while you lay there? Nobody knows where the memories go.