Considering that I have nothing better to do and feel completely alone, thought I?d start a blog series about my life. Either I?ll be talking to myself the whole way or sharing this journey with you all. I guess this is the part where I say buckle up, it?s going to be a bumpy ride.
Somewhere in 1995.. or 97 98??? There?s a lady, on the back of a Harley motorcycle outside the hospital. She?s not wearing any shoes and she?s with some random guy. I think she?s homeless. Oh ya, she?s also pregnant. Favorite drug of choice, crack cocaine. The sweet turmoils of poverty. They?re about to take off when suddenly another woman appears. She?s short, not even 5 foot. She?s looks to be fairly young maybe late 30?s. She walks up to the shoeless pregnant biker and asks what is she going to do with that kid. As if she?s said it before.. The lady responded saying she doesn?t know. Looks like we?re off to a great start. I?m sure she?d probably sell that kid for crack in a heartbeat, seeing that it was her 11th kid maybe more or less ..
The short woman said she would take the baby and that she?d already has her sister so no point in splitting them up. They agree as the sound of the bikes engine roared, nothing but dust and crack in the wind.
April 7, 1995, today?s the big day. The crackbaby would be born today. Happy birthday, ironically enough it was the crackheads birthday too, a birthday wasn?t the only thing shared that day. The lady from outside Goes to get her new prize, only she?s not there. Neither is the mother. Those crackheads sure as hell can run, but where the fuck is she going with a strung out newborn baby with no shoes and no home, happy birthday little fucker, it?s a girl.
It?s been five days, the whole county is looking for this baby. The cops are involved and the baby is officially a property of the state. They check her grandmas house, the baby?s alive. The crackhead wasn?t any better than her mother. They had a long history of street life. The grandma holds the knife to their throats as the daughter steals, now that?s thug life. The mother was hiding the baby out as if she could offer it a better life. Guess you can?t blame her, afterall they did share the same birthday. A bond like that goes beyond the womb. She even gave it a name. Ironically enough her name meant first woman, casted out of the garden of Eden, her poison of choice, meth, Shoulda picked a damn apple.
Didn?t matter now anyways, she belonged to the state now, welcome to the system.
Somewhere in 1995.. or 97 98??? There?s a lady, on the back of a Harley motorcycle outside the hospital. She?s not wearing any shoes and she?s with some random guy. I think she?s homeless. Oh ya, she?s also pregnant. Favorite drug of choice, crack cocaine. The sweet turmoils of poverty. They?re about to take off when suddenly another woman appears. She?s short, not even 5 foot. She?s looks to be fairly young maybe late 30?s. She walks up to the shoeless pregnant biker and asks what is she going to do with that kid. As if she?s said it before.. The lady responded saying she doesn?t know. Looks like we?re off to a great start. I?m sure she?d probably sell that kid for crack in a heartbeat, seeing that it was her 11th kid maybe more or less ..
The short woman said she would take the baby and that she?d already has her sister so no point in splitting them up. They agree as the sound of the bikes engine roared, nothing but dust and crack in the wind.
April 7, 1995, today?s the big day. The crackbaby would be born today. Happy birthday, ironically enough it was the crackheads birthday too, a birthday wasn?t the only thing shared that day. The lady from outside Goes to get her new prize, only she?s not there. Neither is the mother. Those crackheads sure as hell can run, but where the fuck is she going with a strung out newborn baby with no shoes and no home, happy birthday little fucker, it?s a girl.
It?s been five days, the whole county is looking for this baby. The cops are involved and the baby is officially a property of the state. They check her grandmas house, the baby?s alive. The crackhead wasn?t any better than her mother. They had a long history of street life. The grandma holds the knife to their throats as the daughter steals, now that?s thug life. The mother was hiding the baby out as if she could offer it a better life. Guess you can?t blame her, afterall they did share the same birthday. A bond like that goes beyond the womb. She even gave it a name. Ironically enough her name meant first woman, casted out of the garden of Eden, her poison of choice, meth, Shoulda picked a damn apple.
Didn?t matter now anyways, she belonged to the state now, welcome to the system.
and yeah it?s about my life and I am the kid