MY MOTHER'S SON
I grew up in the streets of the Bronx in N.Y, jumping from home to home. I met some good and some fuckup folks; was loved by few but hated by most. Had a lot of unanswered questions when I was young, pointed a lot of fingers, and always ended looking up, but asking God why never seemed to work. It just made me realize that I've always been alone. When I was 13 I was introduced to Angel; she transported me to a different world where everything was beautiful. There was no system, or drug between my momma and us. My sister was always by my side and we were a family; going through hard times, living one day at the time, but together as a family. But when reality kicked in, I see my momma’s once white gown dirty again and tears run down my face because my 16 yrs old sister is a runaway; and I wondered if I’d ever see her again.
I didn’t like Angel at first, but after three months couldn’t live without the dust. I didn’t really like smoking blunt, and the coke high…. didn’t last long. Angel was cool as hell, but she fucked with me and with my friend… she wasn’t a faithful chick; the one with the most money spent more time with her. But I think she noticed the kid was on his grind, always making money, dressing fly, so she wasted no time, and before I knew it I was addicted to Angel. I couldn’t live without her dust; always high on her. I really believed being sober was her punishment for those who were broke. Angel was a gold-digger; Damn that bitch took all I had; fucking with her I spent all my cash.
I couldn't afford Angel so she introduced me to her friend Crack. She was cheaper and a stronger high. Crack had me climbing on the clouds and running on the sky. She didn't bring much friends around but that was fine, all I needed was her to feel on top. I can't even tell you the things I've done to keep her by my side. I look back on the shameful things I've done and it makes me cry but Crack always ease my mind. There's no reasoning when we together, all I need is her, she is my life.
Looking in the mirror I see my mother's reflection… I am my mother’s son; I was that prince who's now is a king, I have no queen, but I reign in the Palace of the Bronx streets. My shirt is no longer white, my pants have lost its color, and my shoes have lost it shine. I haven’t shower in a while and people stare when I walk by. They don’t bow their head for the King but they give me space; when they see me coming they go the other way. I want to believe that’s a form of respect but they do it because I wear the crown of shame. I'm now a crack-head; I am my mother’s son.
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