My young friend lol… U won’t believe this, because arrogance is a kind of quality of ur age and youth a type of blind madness we all go through… But I’ve already had what ur bragging about. Ur fire’s just been lit boy… And so u burn to embrace… My memory of her makes me both smile and shake my head. She was beautiful… Very very beautiful.. Alluring in a natural way as if she knew her own powers, but as I later learned, she was quite naive to the viciousness of our true male hunger. But that part of the tale’s her own and not mine. She was From a poor country in Asia uve probably never heard of. An immigrant family who came here and prospered. She was sheltered…educated, but very spoiled. Paris Hilton was her role model… She drove a brand new black and red Mitsubishi lol…expensive open chested blouses, loud shoes with heals that could stab u and gorgeous black hair that came to down near her coke bottle body waist. How did I come to have her???.. Doesn’t matter… Bad boy…Snobby rich girl.. This story’s old and boring for real because it happens truthfully everywhere all the time. But I Thought I was really something because she believed she was. Don’t fall for it boy…remember urself before u lose urself in her foreign perfume. What happened to us can’t be blamed on her…not really. I was older and supposed to be more wordly and street wise…didn’t see it coming. Not at all. I couldnt say no to her with myself. I was given the key to the door young boys dream about and older men lie about. She became pregnant…how happy I was.. PACK! A father… Really, this foolish hellion?. .nope! My chanel purse loving little lady wasn’t having it… Too much clubbing to still do babe… One trip to a specialist and “Zoop! “.. Up a tube… Fetus gone… I didnt even at my worse in life believe in such things so I was crushed… My son/daughter???… Where did they put u? Well boy…do understand my point?.. Besides the natural and ancient wrestling match we all like to engage in between him and her ur heaven is really a beautifully veiled pit of Hades…Greek word for hell. Yeah… U ain’t listening lol… Good luck kid!

Published by Pack Redfeather

I am a walking contradiction of traditions some say. An African American and Native American Muslim poet with a personal life history as violently turbulent as a Storm. A visionary from the bottom of life’s social barrel striving to share the hope found in the light of faith through sometimes dark but real poetry. I’m a former member of the Bloods street gang, former serial bank robber, and both federal/state prison convict. I live on my mother’s tribal reservation of the Leech Lake band of Ojibwe in Minnesota.

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