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@thuglyfestreetlyfe
Everybody's story has an ending...
As much as I would love to protect you mom, As much as I would love to watch over you everyday until you pass.....Im afraid I won't last as long as you....The streets....they are getting tougher, scarier and more people are armed with an itchy finger on the trigger. If I don't make tomorrow then Im sorry that my story ended too soon.
Tick Tick Tick......."Silence"
I wonder how long it will be. How long until time runs out for me. How long for the hand to stop turning around the clock. When will they finally decide that they don't need this neighbourhood any longer and drive us all out or worse rid of us permantly.
Not a lot of people understand this feeling. Feeling the cold metal pressed against the back of your head.....counting down the seconds wondering when that BANG will ring through your ears before everything goes dark. Knowing your life isn't yours anymore its in the hands of someone else....somebody decides your fate. Poverty feels like this. Poverty is the man with the gun held to his head while society is the man behind the gun waiting to pull the trigger. The gun represents the rich man with the power to make us disappear...men who wants us gone so the streets can be clean. If society decides it no longer wants us around they have the power to pull that trigger...they have the power to rid us from this world.
This world we live in is sad. Live in a house that barely has 4 walls. A mother that leaves days on end looking for a fix. Nobody will hire me because I " look shady or bad" and money in the bronx is running out to take. The money is drying out because the men on the other side of the city are stealing what little we have here. They won't be happy till they have every cent in the world and we are left with nothing but a slow death of starvation. The gap between us keeps growing....I will have to soon go to the rich parts and risk my freedom to survive...take back what I need with a gun and no fear.
" You Do Not Belong Here"
Today I was walking home from yet another failed interview. Once again where I come from means I can't work because Im not a trustworthy person its in my blood to rob and be unfaithful.
My walk home took me through one of the nice neighbourhoods, one where everybody is rich, the wives do not work and the husbands drive sports cars. A police officer pulled up beside me and asked me why I was here, asked me if I was looking for a place to rob or pick my next target. " you do not belong here" he said therefore you must be here to benefit from their hard earned cash.I was escorted from the subdivision..
Fuck society man. What happened to us.
This Life Makes You Cold Hearted
Today I had to do the unthinkable.....mum stole the little money we had for food and spent it on her....She spent it poorly put it that way. So I had to rob the local store. Nothing went bad but I had to look into a young girls eyes and she the fear she had of me. She feared me as I had her life in my hands and honestly I felt powerful for once. I understood for a second how it feels to be in control, like the politicians and the police. Maybe power is my new calling, maybe power will get me out of poverty and make me into a new man.
One step at a time....Walk Don't Run.
Drug withdrawal is tough mom. I know your body wants to feel the poison flow once more through those veins. I can hear you scream in the room next to me, crying shouting and begging me to let you leave so you can get another fix. I cannot afford to keep doing these illegal things when all the money does is end up wasted on drugs. We need to eat mom, the streets won't feed us much longer so I will have to result to taking things away from other people...Please hold on a little longer and fight the craving. Fight the greed.
This is how life is on the street daily. There is no such thing as loyalty, respect, friends and brotherhood. If you stand between someone and something they desire then you are disposed of. This guy right here....All he did was walk down the street and look at somebody the wrong way. The look on your face is enough to lose your life. Life is unforgiving here, This place isn't safe and only the tough survive to live til tomorrow.
Men have created this world, but single handedly they are tearing it back down to nothing. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Wheres the justice in that.
The Police. The Fuzz. Piggies. Whatever you want to call them. These guys right here are supposed to protect and serve, to save and protect lives not ruin them. All my life I have seen them target poor people, treating us all as criminals, drug addicts and low life. I watched them hassle my mother, almost trying to convince her to take more drugs just so they can improve their numbers. I have always wondered where my lack of respect for authority came from and I blame my father. I was supposed to respect you dad, with respect I would learn morals and the rights and wrongs of society. Except because of you I cannot respect authority because last time I showed that weakness towards a higher power, I was taken advantage of.
Never Again.
All Along
Everyday I face alone..
Chances
Life is a game of chances. The chance to be born poor or rich, smart or dumb, healthy or dying. Life is a game of opportunities or a life of poverty. Life is a game and It seems I was dealt a bad hand every step of the way.
Dear Mom, I know you only lie in the room next door but I hope one day you can read this when you are better. When the drugs stop taking over and you become the woman you were before. You have been both my mother and father ever since I was just a little boy. We used to walk together, play games together even stay up all night crying together. When dad left...he ruined you. His abusive changed you, turned you to drugs. Now somedays you can't even speak or you go missing days on end looking for a fix. You wanted to bring me up differently from him...from dad...Yet I have to steal and rob and sell drugs to pay for our food because Im left without a mother. All I have now is some woman that lives with me, that needs feeding and restraining when the withdrawals get too bad. I pay the rent to live in this " house"....more like a shack held together by nothing but old cement. I want my mother back....this woman you are now is no mother...Just a junkie that cares about one thing and one thing only...Her next fix.
Fathers. This man should be the most important part of any Childs life no matter what the circumstances. He's supposed to teach you to kick a football, be there for your first heartbreak and your first fairytale love story. Fathers are supposed to love you forever and never harm you only push you to be a better man. So why weren't you any of these things dad? Why don't we have pictures on the wall of using playing ball, of you teaching me to drive and pushing me to finish school? Why do I have nightmares of you not dreams of memories we shared together? Why did my dad make my mom scream and drive her to take the needle because you couldn't give her support? Why is my dad something I want to forget because he abused and tore my life apart. Why do I wake up every day hoping that Ill forget you tomorrow? Why can't I call you dad?
Everybody has their limits.
The only thing that keeps me sane these days...
Where is my mind? My mind isn't on yesterday. My mind isn't on tomorrow. My mind is here in this present moment. Can I really rob this place to feed myself and my mother? Isn't that selfish? Theres one thing society has taught me and that is to care for yourself because nobody else gives a shit. I hope I make it home safe to you mom.
