Many inmates have grown up without their father. Does that make us what we are? Is that the reaso?
At age two my mother dropped me off at my grandmother's and went to the grocery store... never to return... but did she die? No, but my love for her easily died away...
That man who left my mother, brother and sister-to-come, to better our lives by joining the army, never returned. That man, instead of returning, made his roots as a drug dealer after going AWOL from the army. That man took us away from my loving grandmother at age six. Was this my father's resurrection? Did it bring me joy?
That man beat me since i was six...
That man took his sons and daughter's money to pay off his drug dept...
That man kicked me out whe i hit fourteen...
That man still grows his money in my closet...
That man locked me in my room seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, grade... no TV, no radio - just my thoughts. With each crack of his fists, each kick, he took my heart out of my young chest, but it still beats in the palms of his hands. i may not have a heart... but it still beats... i never struck back... did he care? My pain expresses his love... I've been released... that man won't get me
... I sold drugs but never cheated anyone, I still live the streets, he may have created me, but I am still here, he will not destroy me.. I will destroy me.
That man... who is that man? My father without a heart (which still beats in his hand)... I still love that man...that man...my father,
Cry for that...
Why do they call me 100 Namez-
'cause my father used 100 names for me
