What am I?
What, not who, because when things get and got bad, I’m treated more like a what, and not a who.
So, what am I?
A collapsing building, a spiraling/crashing plane, or a sinking ship?
I mean I can hear it how certain people talk or respond to me…
as if I should be so lucky to have their attention since I’m in prison…
or like I’m damaged goods and served better at a distance or no contact at all as if I’m toxic or contagious…
or like they always knew my potential, and now its safe to acknowledge me again now.
But then there’s those few, that never lost sight of me, never lost faith in me, and have always and continue to talk to me like a who.
A who that is still important to them, a who that isn’t reminded of the where I reside or what I did, but the how I’m salvaging the wreck that was me.
Whether a collapsing building, a crashing plane, or a sinking ship..
they’ve stayed around and never abandoned,
believing that one in a million chance of survival was possible and worth the risk in staying around, knowing that it would be alright and better on the other side and honestly, they just wanted front row seats to the process.
Because hearing it second hand, or coming back around Kate just wouldn’t have been as satisfying.
When things go bad, we’re reminded who we are, in the eyes of those we believed believed in us. Those closer than most that we said we loved…
I’m not toxic anymore, but still just in case, to keep yourself safe, do us both a favor and stay at a distance. I have just enough around me, which happened to be the only ones I needed, no one can do it alone.
Shout out to my first responders and first ridiculers, you showed me who, not what, I am, and more importantly, you showed me you, Priceless! Which is good, because coming out of prison I’ll be needing to spend a lot of money that I don’t have yet starting all over, Sheesh! Dodged one!
Prison wisdom: Fuck what they say, watch what they do.
Why is the misery of people or an animal, a source entertainment or income for a branch of societies that would almost seem like puppet masters.
Like a zoo, taking animals outside of their natural habitat for our amusement.
Or what if you threw a steak or a gazelle in a lions den full of hungry lions with a camera, that’d be great right?
Or what about gladiators in Rome?
What about black men in low income areas pitted against each other for limited resources where competition and crude survival instincts are endorsed only to end with their deaths or imprisonment where they fight in that gladiators arena until freed or for a life time…
Are you not Entertained?!
Yea we have a problem.
We’re sick, complaining about the symptoms of our virile system, but love the show and profits!
America, The New Rome