Finding A Way To Calm The fury With In

I’m still trying to recover…

Im still trying to get right…

I’m still falling.

Trying to grab a hold of the new ages.

A unfinished prototype of a man with no feeling and no compassion trying to transition to a normal future! Interactional and compatible rearranging my thoughts into love and not flames.                                                          I won’t go to far. Medicating between Wellbutrin and Bupropion. Sertraline to walk the type rope to hope. Please don’t fall… Hoping to God when I’m in public that know one bumps into me or look me in my eyes a certain way.                                    They say I’m fucked up… Seroquel won’t even put me to sleep. My mind skips a beat sometimes when I hear old songs. Triggering flash backs of a savage nostalgia.                                                             A child that knew no real punishment untill I met the true devil.

I don’t go far… No mirrors, pictures or clippers to shape my life up. Cutting off the ties of the guys that I once looked up to as a child.                                                 Now all dead and gone or getting high somewhere strung out creeping through the back Windows stealing only to satisfy there drug apitites.                            Some of them are doing maximum time behind the iron bars or on death row awaiting to die slow.

Can someone tell me the reason for a prison sentence of life plus 75 years? Do you have to die twice in order to come home and see your kids?

This is the prototype of a man Trying to transition.

I’ve Moved On But Don’t Forget That I Can Still Do You Wrong

I ain’t shit!                                                          I cannot change my past. Never changing like the number 8. Know matter how much you shape it. Rewinding the cassette tape till it breaks.

I’m still paranoid!                                             Still looking through the blinds in the house till they get stuck in the same position like that. Still chocking the air out of old memories till his Adams apple cracks.

There are still peaces of me that want to make my enemy’s bleed. Fragments of the fragment of your imagination that you picked up and thought I was of a weak breed.

Weak!

Me!

Don’t make me pull this knife out of my sleeve or just break your jaw leaving the pieces flying like hurricane debris. Sometimes I still feel like I’m a young buck again and I can take over corners like back in the early 2000. All the money in my pocket is dead like the mens faces on them.

I might have changed realizing I must over come my past life by every inch of gains. When I think of all the lives lost and close friends and associates that all have life sentences. I think to myself knowing God put me here for a valuable reason. I never will go get the past or even those promises made. I going to continue to walk forward leaving my old days and bad days like I graduated to the next grade.