I wonder if you could possibly live life like me. Do you know what it feels like to have an addict as a mother. To have a loving but angry little brother. A father that doesn’t support you and always yells “I wish your mother would’ve just fucking aborted you!” That drinks and smokes like all the other deadbeat fathers do. Dealing dope and guns, without leaving traces then selling young girls including me and wiping the tears afterwards from our pretty faces. Clinching onto the little bit of sanity that I might have left; church folk constantly repeating to me like a broken record “it’s just god putting you through a test” although I thought I was doing my best. I found trust, I found lust that ended up in drugs, miscarriages, lies, contusions, confusion, I could go on. Tell me where I went wrong. After all, my mother was the first one to show me how to dance sexy and she did buy me my first thong. Running away, losing track of the days. Losing track of my ‘normal ways’. No food, no water, no love, on the street, people looked at me with disgust. The tears I’d shed over the years finally turned those chains that had me bound to rust. I found shelter, only because of the weather. Different classes, food, a shower, detox, a counselor; providing me with a notepad for my eyes only, since I kept to myself. I fell in love with rhymes, overtime. Within 8 months I was working. Living alone, in my own home. When it all happened so suddenly, the next thing I knew, I was writing my own poetry. I wonder if you could possibly live life like me.
Unique
