Tale of an addicted soul.

Born into the shit. Nothing to do with it. Stuck and fucked like a real bad day. Helpless to refrain from all that comes my way. I started huffing gas, paint and rubber cement. I begin smoking weed  and loved getting bent. I never really drank cause my dad was a reminder. An addict himself he truly died young, he was the drunk driver. I was introduced to acid,ecstacy and coke. Then came along my good friend white dope. Mr meth and his army  of shards. Grabbed me up,carried me away out of my yard. Shit felt good I thought, gave me an energy that could be. Bought. Shit was still a risky game. Now my paranoia was released to mis behave. I loved the criminal life from an early age. And the white dope allowed it out of its cage. Burglary, robberies and shooting to kill. Wasn't just a hobby but truly a thrill. Cranked up until all emotion and sympathy was nil.  Pumped up on dope at Age 15. We rode on the other side emptying the clip as they screamed. 18 months In juvenile corrections, back on the streets with no new direction. Imagine getting a welcoming and meth was the gift. Imagine 20 years of what I was givin to lift. By age 24 ID done over six years. A quarter of my life and the facts were clear. Go back to the homies on the block. Meant ID either see jail, emptiness or Id get shot. So what the fuck is not what I should of said. But what the fuck Im not dead. So here I sit and Im 36 years old. Started up again and the needle owns my soul. A victim I am I dont choose yo abuse. For I give meaning to the word addict, atleast its not you. I do get tired and a life of drugs gets old. But If I new how to live better this story wouldnt get told. People may laugh, cry, feel or be cold. Either way it doesnt matter when your just a tormented soul. Back in my car and heading to the spot. Gonna buy a big ass bag and do another shot. Fuck me, as i ponder whats next. I look back at all this shit, man who would of guessed. I would of told you I would be who i am. But right now this shit is thick I see cops and still scram. Im not criminal im outlaw made. Wouldnt snitch on my enemy if it meant I got paid. I respect the  thugs, pushers and drugs. They represent survival in a life that never gave a fuck. My therapist says im very wise. Street smart like a genius and til i die. Cause I hate yuppy, pompous ass people, or the trash of all races that cant be real. Money rules, crime can pay. Dope and its attraction paved the motherfucking way. The govt tried to fight a war. Against its own people because we were poor. We proved that our hearts were bigger, and our pride was massive. Striking back and standing up for all that are passive. Its a scary place in this game. A million people trying to not be tamed. We protect, neglect and dont cash checks. For cash and goods is all we accept. Hate us, envy us, respect us or disrespect. Theres a hundred more behind me thats willing to risk their neck. Outcasts and throwaways and a bunch more labels. All i got to say is my money is stable. Put a gun to your face, you best be quicker. For if your not im pulling that trigger. So the next time you go talking about junkies, coke heads and tweakers. Remember we dont give a fuck about you judgemental, approval seekers. Given a disease from birth, and a lifelong battle to stay even keel with its curse. Im gonna go grab my spoon, adios haters and self righteous fools.