This End Up
I die a liar, cheat, felon, sicko, as you live the life sending care packages overseas. Sons and daughters who murder in the name of McDonalds, I-Pod, Conoco.
Support the troops armed with high capacity clips. Soldiers storming residences for dead residents, cowardly acts on CNN emulated right here. It's elementary, dear, destruction breeds destruction.
My shirt. It smells. Isn't branded named enough rich. The weave. The stitch. All wrong. Smile crooked. Car rusty. Easier to hate ugly than it is pretty.
As long as we have enough to eat. And enough T.V. What's poverty got to do with me? Shall I grow up to be Chuck Norris or G.I. Joe? Mommy, why do blacks only die on these popular, colorful, Hollywood shows?
Don't do drugs unless you're white and rich. Prison or rehab? Matters more if you pay or become paycheck.
Ten years of my life solitary stolen and I've never hurt a hair. No one rises up in anger at injustice unless it's aimed up your asses.
Why doesn't God bless Middle Eastern kids? Read the care package.
2013 aug 20
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2013 aug 20
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2013 aug 20
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2013 aug 20
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2013 aug 20
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2013 aug 3
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