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black-on-black crime
I killed someone at the age of eight years old
I was just a little kid but the person I killed was nothing more than a punk ass bitch that dealt out emotional, physical, and verbal abuse
The person I killed was the reason I got my ass whooped when I was getting bullied or I lost a fight because I didn't fight back
The person I killed was the reason why I was scared to do, say, or think on my own because they always told me I was too dumb to do anything or be anyone but I proved them wrong when I became a murderer
The person I killed is the same person that grew up believing that men aren't supposed to cry, men aren't supposed to be happy, men aren't good enough for anything but slinging dick and paying bills while they suffer in silence and deal with their own pain with no gain,
And it's sad because their 15 minutes of fame only comes with an obituary, a nice suit and maybe a gold chain
Laid to rest while everyone cries out, "OMG! HE WAS THE BEST!"
The best at being a failure
The best at risking his happiness to please everyone else while they berated and humiliated him when he decided to stop being a slave to his own kind and rise up against the hate,
They,
Shot him back down and told him to stay
Every time he tried to crawl away, they would go crazy and lead him astray
Away from a better life because he wouldn't get on his knees and kiss their feet or bury his face in their asses while they shat on it
And now that I'm older and a bit more bolder and willing to take a risk,
I took the risk of murdering again at the age of 16, mid-teen
For the same reasons that I just read because a part of me is already dead and I did it again with the same type of lead
I aimed the gun to their head and their life flashed before their eyes,
I had blacked out so I couldn't hear their cries
I had blacked out so I couldn't hear their lies that they told when they were apologizing and telling me how good of a person I am and how they were happy to have me in their life, but when I took that knife and started cutting my arm they laughed and told me to pray
They laughed and told me I was acting like a child and only doing it for attention when in reality,
They were right
I wanted someone to love me
I wanted someone to hug me
I wanted someone to look me in my eyes and say anything besides how dumb I am, how ugly I look, and how stupid I'd become
Instead I got a punch to the face, a busted ego that never had the chance to reach its full potential, and a damaged soul that's been in a coma for two decades because nobody would dare to pay to take me off of life support because I wasn't good enough, I wasn't loved enough to stay alive
I was belittled,
Beaten, battered and bruised by my own kind and that's the real Black-on-black crime and every so often I lose a piece of myself and nobody bats an eye
Not until reality sets in and they see it on the news
That's when they realize
Through the years of tears, cuts, pain, and suffering,
I've been dead for years
Yes!
I'm a murderer because the pain became so intolerable that I had to murder myself and lay in my own pool of blood because nobody knew but me

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