Taking place in 2024, a time where every single thing that had assimilated to life felt exactly right.

A time where there were no worries, no time for thinking about school work, no time to think about the program, the program that my parents had placed me in, as a repercussion, a consequence to doing bad, such as tagging, or smoking, and stealing, things a 14 year old should not do.

A 14 year old should most definitely not have the intentions to cause plunders, which only result in sanctions, only result in the boot, society tends to give, tends to throw the individual off the bus, leaving them lost and wandering off into the abyss.

Nonetheless, it was June 27 2022, the day I got jumped into a gang, the day I felt every single thing within life would just dissipate or some how expunge, like completely, I thought all my worries would be gone, since I had people actual people, to accommodate me, show me other wise. I had someone right, at least human being,

which I could cling to and ask for advice, such as how do I conduct my self, or how do I get from point “A” to point “B”, the labyrinth began,

2 years ago, getting stomped out, thrown in the ground, getting punched behind my head, nearly felt near my amygdala. Getting hit hardly, immensely, felt like a never ending moment.

Oh of such pride I had within me, oh how I felt to get inside the organization, oh how the day felt momentarily, looking back at all this ruckus really indicates an ignorant being I was.

Getting socked out by 2 grown men, age 20 and something, like I did not know these men, they were not my immediate family, yet I digested their lies, their false hoods, their humbugging,

I was manipulated, told to carry a weapon at school, so what did I do, always carried a weapon during school. See growing up I had no friends, life was already arduous as a young kid, age of 10 to 9, not sure,

although not having friends, nor someone to relate to was excruciating, their was no relatibility. Then as time proceeded, viewing the exterior of this deeply impoverished community induced me,

it convinced me, I was one, I was nothing but a nefarious entity, another being, another lost cause.

See life was not hard for me, there was no complications in life, there was no hardships, my immideiate family was always there. Seems that the ones who don’t talk, really miss out on opportunities,

mainly my whole life has been me missing, me missing on this or that, something that’s of person, a person to cling to, a being to talk to, a being to deeply understand, though there was no probability.

So I decided joining a gang was a life changing experience, decided to hang out with the men that commit atrocity’s was the biggest, I decided that hanging out with these malicious beings was alright,

because they deeply cared about me. I was deeply wrong, feeding into there lies they told me, yet they advised me this life comes with consequences, death is a possibility, nearly reaching the 90s percentile,

though I did not listen, see I was beguiled by my own self. I don’t blame these people, it’s all me, a being who’s discontent with current circumstances. A being who wants a boost, who wants to feel alive, who wants to feel the atmosphere of deep content and alacrity.

Though there was times living this life where I felt at peace, I felt mitigated, I felt revitalized, I felt alleviated, I was around human beings like me, indifferent, not giving a regard what one looks like,

see we were all equated, there was no leader, we were all regarded as the same, we were all respected as the same. Is not this the life, a life where society is final integrated, well at least being in a gang to me was somewhat of an ok experience,

see I’m not trying to castigate my gang, nor say these people within it are mendacious beings, only out to get me to exploit and beguile me, there’s exactly no time to cause such oppression.

Or at least in my community, see it’s all about shooting, and tagging over nearly painted murals, representing a fine little city. Showing a sense of pride, of course being flamboyant when the women arrive, of course being presumptuous when the old heads tag along.

Though I deeply think, and simply I ask my self, why me, or how could life be so cruel to me, like exactly what was it, I can’t pin point any thing, it’s very difficult, causes many complications and does not facilitate me.

Rather I feel like a crestfallen being, I feel the deserving of being labeled a recreant, I was given in life one exact task complete school and work.

Those are the only things society had to offer, those were the only decrees my parents said, or spoke with such passion, other than that it seems to me, that a being like me fell through the small cracks, the cracks that exist within the concrete floor the cracks that have a tumultuous sound once running it over.

I no longer regard my self as an intrepid being, I am some coward who conceals a loaded weapon on my waste. A weapon that has a very tumultuous sound once set off, once the trigger is pulled there are sounds of static and buzz, like exactly static and buzz, I hear nothing but nothing, my brain thinks of nothing but nothing,

I did not pull the trigger without hesitation, i did not vacillate while trying to pull the trigger, my brain just did its work,

see I truly believe that the brain is at work, the brain elucubrates, the regulates and the brain annihilates.

The sound of the trigger is so beautiful, it goes click click, but as it’s releasing shells, I start to become ambivalent, on which emotions I should process,

like should I feel some what sorry, no the streets say other wise. This is why i am deeply solidifying the whole foundations of gangs as manipulation, most people appeal its audiences, and reel them in life fish. See I was the fish, and to this day i am still this fish

placed in quandary, placed in a unconscious state where I can’t seem to contemplate effectively, it is that every single thing I do results in something wrong, or even bad, just doing plunders, making mistakes, and acting like a failure.

Days in that park, days in the bench, days submerged and drenched. Days where that were unclimbable. Walking and talking, looking up with my head up high, gripping on a teeny tiny miniature pistol, hugging it tight and realizing that the weapon of steel is my only friend, my partner, my trusty side kick who I can always rely on. See I confide in my self with the pistol, I let it know personal aspects that happen within my life, then the pistol returns the favor and recognizes me as a being.