I created a fictitious pen name to ensure I have the freedom to say what I truly feel. This is my outlet all you see here is real. Real poetic justice, real faith and love, real true suffering as a human destined for so much more love.
My family ripped apart, and revenge in my mind. I feel like setting the score but can’t do so with my real name red flagged throughout time.
I will try to do it the right way before I do it wrong. As I ask for your prayers I have been done wrong. By a system who couldn’t give a shit if we live or die. Their absence would be welcome in my life until the end of time. Help me please I ask once more before I come in with a bow and arrow. Truth and justice shouldn’t flex to lead and poison on bone marrow.
I plead and beg hoping for it to go away. How many to take out just to have my family here with me today. A hatred for them ripping apart my life, is what fuels my controlled rage and their much caused strife. They always win they brag and say on tv or in a book. I’m telling you their ways are lost and it is they who are the crooks.
I will balance the score, death will approach them all- or all I need is one man to be found innocent hatred again for not being able to afford attorneys in a trial. The rich you see, don’t have to deal with this stress. I hope that they can see the absolute creation of mess that they have watched go through time and time again. Incarceration is for the poor, not for the rich my friend.
Let us break apart this French woman who has her scales so tipped. I want to go up to the graves and the heavens in a single trip. I’m at least owed to make right what has been done wrong. How do I do this you ask? As the masses amped up- to create the justice song.
I ask if they have done you all wrong, you nod your head yes, and that’s what makes us strong.
That’s why a fictitious name and that’s why I want it all to fall. If they only have given my family back the war won’t be over until you say your out of troubles way and that all is fine and well at the ending of my song.
As I finish my drawing, thoughts fill my mind. We must have a plan as their failure at our expense is our design. Wake up America! I humbly pray for you to open your eyes. Many others suffering on our own streets, yet publicity and hardship fill up our own streets and skies. I don’t want to be a slave in golden handcuffs either. We will parish if we don’t stand up to this set up for failure.
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