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If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

23 poems·Since October 2011
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1955

November 20, 2011
I was one of those slaves on a slave ship we was children with AIDS and shit they took ones young ones poor ones consolidated increase incarcerated slaves that she spoke of as threats when they were the slaves masters with guns we’re for vagueness we cause hell, snow and rain and Negro’s minds to break like earth quakes
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