Lost papers of a troubled man

……..I came up hard, most would’ve came apart if they had my start, at a young age I saw men taken apart, a system within a system designed to give us a clubfoot start, that’s why we’re always on their statistical charts; when I was a child, I would ride on my momma’s shopping cart, in the neighborhood store, where most of our synthetic outdated food was brought, who would’ve thought, I’d windup in court, in the words of mister Devonport, cause my black monkey ass was riding on the edge of his shopping carts, while arguing with my mom, he grabbed my arm, then I kicked him between his legs, instantly reminded why people say he’s all balls and no shaft, and he’s short on staff as he fell reaching for stuff to grab. Locked up for assault, I  was forced into that cult, all black men soon find themselves, but still learn to find pride in themselves, I came up hard; almost came apart when I saw a victim, throw his child he was holding to the ground, to save her from the hail of bullets meant to rob him of all sight and sound, cultural dystrophy that serves as a trophy to victims trying to be wolves, but still serving that master with hooves.