I came home from prison
I look at my closet to see
what I had to wear
I am a New Yorker and the
streets can be brutal and
we all know New Yorker’s are RUDE
it is a culture thing…
My closet had old hooker clothes
on the right and thug gear
on the left… my two identities
that lasted over 25 years
the clothes to sell your soul
by selling your body and
then the tough-guy clothes to
put on my other mask to go and
buy the drugs to make the pain
go away and to be comfortably
NUMB
The problem was those masks
were stripped away from me
and it was my saving grace
because I did not have the
strength to face change and
find out who I really was
Now I love living a corny, square life
where I go home and watch NETFLIX
I might not know exactly who I am yet
because I had been living a lie
I dont want that toxic energy anymore
May I introduce myself to myself
without the aid of drugs as a crutch
