This Is For you, Kid!

Beware the angst of youth.

When you have no other way to voice yourself, then you have no other language beside your actions. And you try. You try to fit. You go along to get along but the frustration in your heart makes it impossible to play along.
Know what I mean?
Next, you find yourself in compromising positions, doing things you know you’re not supposed, which is fine, until you’re caught —until you’re cornered by someone, maybe it’s a teacher, maybe a principal, maybe it’s a cop or your parents, and then they ask you the most commonly asked question.
They ask you “Why?” to whom you answer, “I don’t know,” of course because there is honestly a part of you that doesn’t know why you do what you do. You’re not even sure why you say what you say. You just do it. But deep down, you know there’s a reason. You know there’s something in there but it doesn’t have a name or a face or anything you can describe.

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Prose From The Advocate’s Side

It’s hard to see you this way, but hey, this is part of the game, right?
We signed up for this, remember?
There is me on my side and you on yours, which is not to say that you or I are against each other, because we’re not.
Not at all.
There is no line between; there’s just a wall you’ve built, which I understand because I have my own walls too.
We all do, as a matter of fact.
I spent most of my life trying to build mine, only now, to take them down.

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A Vision Of Hope

I have heard the sound of desperateness. I have spoken on its behalf in my own terms and I have seen the lost and misplaced look in the eyes of tragic souls, hoping for something to come along and give them hope. I have had lengthy discussions about the idea of hopelessness, and, as well, I have listened as friends of mine and strangers too, looking for a reason to change their plans and regain their former life. 

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Back To Where It Began

I walked inside the main doorways to an upstate facility after a long car ride. I was still sweating out the demons of my last ride, so to speak. I was in a fog or, should I say was making my reentry from my last trip out of the atmosphere. As I was coming down from my high, time moved like a stop action film, one caption after another, and the trip I was on was destined to lead me to someplace I didn’t want to go.

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