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Introduction

All in the Family

By Crystal JohnstonPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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it starts out with the typical boy meets girl.

Vallejo in the 80s was a different world.

lower class roamed the streets of the hood.

playing dope games and achieving little good.

together they'd waist one another to the bone.

girl knocked up and waiting by the phone, not knowing if that boy was ever coming home.

they say only god knew what he'd be gettin in.

and she should raise her baby christian, start living free from sin.

lonely and afraid the girl went into a panic,

the party she once knew quickly turned to titanic.

sinking lower she felt a sense of remorse,

what she once believed was love had now become divorce.

ive yet to understand addiction and its holds.

but its a long story thats about to unfold.

the boy was around when it came time for birth,

a beautiful baby girl already doubting her self worth.

looking at these two with curiosity and wonder.

two tweakers raising a child, that ought a do a number.

with no willpower and drugs putting love into a slumber.

the boy went out doing what he thought he had to do.

getting caught up and thrown in the shoe.

the girl all alone, child in hand, got herself some drugs and a couple one night stands.

with dreams of a clean successful life, the only reality was drug abuse and strife.

see addiction has a way of closing us in, making you feel powerless like youll never win.

or maybe its just part of you like an evil twin.

we already know addiction comes built in.

pre-installed disposition lurking, just waiting to begin.

i like to think im lucky for the life that ive had,

every good story should be a little sad.

ive seen alot of things that im not proud to say,

forgiveness is somethin i hope to learn someday

so as life went on with a father in jail.

doing time for things that didnt allow bail.

the mother was a meth head, with a carefree life,

with a daughter watching, wondering, if theyd make it man and wife.

struggling to make it day by day,

not knowing if she'll eat, all day outside to play.

being thrown outside, 6yrs old and alone,

greatful for the tiny one bed apt. home.

she couldnt complain, for thats all she ever knew,

a dope fiend mother who kept a roof for two.

and still to this day i sit back and think,

how worse it could have been as i cheers with a clink.

sad poetry
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