My sister used to hang me upside down and then whip me like cattle. My aunt used to abuse me, my father wasn't around. Me and my brother hardly spoke I don't really know why. I hardly saw my mother she was working all the time. My grandmother hated us. She used to always compare us to strays on the street. To be more precise the words she would use was a stray had more value than me. I would play in the streets. Look through the dumpsters and sometimes we'll find human limbs. I was only 6. Seen bodies dismembered and people shot dead. Their eyes were left open I didn't understand. The blood would disperse and then flow down the drain. Their spirit would leave and their pain went away. To me that was life. I just showed you a glimpse in the life of a kid who was not even 9. When I turned 9. I came to the states. I met my father. This feels like it's heaven it looks more secure. I saw suburbia even in the hood. Memories were suppressed but I'm finally healing. I know I'm alive I can feel my heart beating.

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