All Men Are Created Equal.
Originally posted on DEPRESSION: my muse:
I was born in the back of a bus, my mother was on her way to work, to clean toilets and mop floors. My father collected trash. Honest work.
The books I was taught from were third hand with pages missing.
My mother learned from no books.
My father couldn’t read or write.
The streets were my university and the penitentiary was my graduate school.
For some lucky ones the morgue was graduation.
My mother was sticky sweet around white people and bitter nasty around me. We loved each other.
My father’s questions came after his bottle was empty and he kept the answers in his balled up fist.
Anger is my second nature, my gun is my first.
I love hate and love don’t love nobody.
My mother died on her knees cleaning toilets and mopping floors.
OH!! and praying to the white man on the cross.
My father lost his…
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