My Life

Began in 1977, born to a single mother who had come to 

the Great Land of Prosperity when rumors of a civil war

began in her native country, which I had the privilege of

visiting with her and my dad recently.

She was twenty-six years of age when I was conceived;

she was independent with a broken heart and a lioness 

determination to prosper; she said that my birth gave

her the strength to carry on without my father. 


At thirty five years, I find myself in the verge of 

exploring the greatest chapter of my life; the rhythm of

another heartbeat, the rhyme to my reason for living. A

desire always wished for, I should've been more specific

when I began wishing. 

Today, I must swallow my pride, and carry my head up

high, sober if I can. Mother knows best, but I see that she

is skeptical about my interest in what I must invest in. 

My life use to revolve around her, but never at my best. 

The best of me she lived when I was her baby, her 

newborn son. 

She invested her life and soul in me. I was her sun and

moon, the hope for a better tomorrow; at times I feel she

invested in the wrong sibling, but once she told me I hurt

her the most (I never knew what she meant) until now.

My troubles began with the move to Fresno in 1992; in

tenth grade I was taken away from my environment, my

friends, the life I lived in Rosemead,Ca. I rebelled to the

point of her telling me to leave the house at the age of

seventeen; two weeks after graduating from High School.

I was not a bad boy, gang affiliated, thieve, condescending 

liar, maybe! I was a monster with bad habits and addictions.

Some which lingered at came back from time to time. Once

an addict always an addict; we all have an addiction, it may

not be drugs necessarily; however, its an ambition that you

go out of your way for. I wonder when my tolerance for

poetry will die?

As long as I'm fighting for survival, living, and breathing my

addiction to blank pages will never cease. A drug that has

kept me wired to existence, committed to research the soul

of mankind beginning with mind. I think about what my

mother thought when she first held me in her arms, who did

she think I was going to become? not a perfect son I'm sure. 

My life was her's to live by, to die for, she made sure I had 

everything I needed to survive. Sometimes I hear her cry and

ask her God, to please have mercy over me, to always guide

me through in the streets. Til this day I am convince her

prayers keep me alive. 

Mother has done her best to keep me straight like an arrow, 

yet I have bent like plastic and broken like glass with a heart

that never sleeps and a mind that escapes reality, causing my

mentality to push the boundaries of time and space. January

23, 2014 is projected for me to become anew. I want my

mother to be proud of me, show her that the man she loved

once who's name I carry I will not be. I feel that this is when

her and I will become closer then eve before.

My life belongs to my expected future and my mother, always

and forever! "Mother, I will make you proud, in my life time.

When you die you will know your purpose in has been served.

I love mom."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mother, I will make you proud! I just hope you're alive the day I am reborn again!!

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