Black and White (Part 1)

There is no gray area, there is no silver lining. 

I was born this way...

Imprisioned in the skin that I love which continuously coats the pain it is forced to embrace.

Growing up I needed aggression from project to project from one rough neighborhood to the next. 

Aggression helped you to make it helped you to pass those test.

Aggression helped to win my first fight on North street where I learned to let go cause Holding things in made for a long ride home.

Til' my fourth fight on North street steady scrapping hard rolling under the bus I realized recently animals fight just like us.

It wasn't important that I live and the bus not move, I had to win the fight until it was over cause once you lose, you lose.

So I decided not to lose from ball games to scrapping, I didn't choose my life but would I had made it here without the adapting?

I was attending Holloway street school going to the candy store when I saw my first life snatched from one man to the next mans hand and then he drove off and left him just like that.

So needless to say I had a different experience in Elementary. Though that next year in second grade is when I developed a Love for poetry.

It helped me to focus on the good things.

Like the times my dad came home from county jail and we could just chill at the house.

Watching Dallas Cowboys play Football as I sat under his arm warm on that old couch

These are similar to the moments I wrote whole poems about.

Times where We went out to the country to see my daddy in prison though it was only momentary just for a certain allotted amount of minutes.

At the time seeing the chains from his hands connect to the chains from his feet I don't know that they bothered me as much as the idea of them now.

Cause from a young age I assumed it was just part of the cycle, they force you to live a hard life and penalize you for your survival.

And it's cool how fluent it is that you should praise God through your tribulations and trials.

If you don't you might lose your mind, It gives the small things purpose that way you can celebrate your small victories until the next pain starts hurting.

But I am not complaining sometimes that pain helps you to develop appreciation for the fact that you are still here, and you still got a little life left.

To live is to suffer who would've ever thought Freedom would be an ideal synonym for Imprisonment and Death.