Savage Black {Urban}

ø n e

Cold Winter_

Harlem, New York__

Savage_Black

"Savage! I need a size seven in those Jordan 14's for this gentleman!" Cleo informs. I laugh, putting my Vanz backpack on my back.

"Sorry bro. I'm off duty." I tell her. It's Christmas Eve and I just wanna go home and go to sleep.

"Savage! I actually need you to work double shift tonight. Every one else canceled." My manager says. I look at the time to see its 9:30 and I already stayed over time.

"I can't sorry. I gotta go." I tell her.

"I really need your help Savage. It's only Cleo and myself if you leave." She says. I look around at the crowded sneaker store, shaking my head. Always around holidays or when we have those big deals, people start swarming in. I can never get a break, I knew I shouldn't have volunteered to work holidays.

I make my way to the back, grabbing my vest and name tag. I text my mother to let her know I'll be working late again. She sent a sigh face with an ok.

"Aight Cleo what chu need a size seven?"

"Yea. Kids size."

🎶🎶🎶

As I wait for my sub, I sit on the cold metal bench writing down the lyrics that invaded my brain. I turn up the music on my ears to block out the ignorant school kids that are on winter break. They're always loud and obnoxious for no reason.

Finally the sub arrives, and I stand to my feet adjusting the book bag strap on my shoulder. I bump into one of the rushing people, knocking my bag of my shoulder and everything falls out.

"Damn you're excused!" I grouch. They continue to walk in rush, not even looking back or coming back to help. I smack my lips, packing my bag up again. As soon as I stand to my feet, the train begins to move. I wave and hit the graffiti metal for it to stop but it keeps going.

"Asshole!" I exclaim, walking back over to the seat. Now I have to wait for the next sub which won't ride around for another hour. The bullshit.

After a long ride on the sub, I finally get home at around 2:15am. I pull the hood of my winter jacket up, as the city air pounds against my frail skin. It's a cold night in New York. It's twenty degrees in these streets, dark as hell and cold as ever.

I walk the block, turning down the music that blared through my earphones. Can't be too careful. I make it to my block, walking three homes down to my residence. I put the key in the door, entering the dark house in sighs.

I hear soft cries from the living room that was only lit. I furrow my eyebrows, closing the door entering the house further. I walk pass the room, noticing the bed where my father lays is completely empty. I enter the living room dropping my bag to the floor shaking my head as my mother cried even more.

"Savage I'm so sorry." My mother weeps, getting up from the living room table. She pulls me into a hug as I sob in her chest, leaning on her for support. My father has been fighting Parkinson's Disease for years. He showed signs of getting better but then again it was probably just my imagination. I never wanted to believe he was dying. No one did.

"Why. Why!" I sob.

🎶🎶🎶

Have you ever felt my pain,
lost for words yet your tongue burns to the third degree,
because you wanna scream but you can't because your breath cuts short,
And you can't breathe, for you don't want to believe that your father is gone.
With no good bye or hello,
Left in the dark heavy like the smog or smoke from this blunt I'm smoking,
Rather I'm right or wronging. Nights when I couldn't sleep unless you would hold me close, your cologne would stain scent in my clothing.
Mama was always working, from night to morning.
She gave me kisses at night and told me to sleep tight, but this night was different.
It was quiet, not one peep, not your groaning and moaning from the pain in your sleep.
From the nightmares that you had that almost made you weak but you stood tall. But tonight not at all, everything just ceased.
The monitors that beeped, the laughter that was so unique.
Remember coming home from school just to see your face...

"Savage! Savage!" My mother calls. I groan, turning over as I hear her keys jingle in her hand.

"Ain't no ugh! Get your ass up! You gotta take the trash out." She strips the covers off me, opening my door wide for the cold air to tickle the small hairs on my body. I feel the goose bump shivering, reaching for my blanket but of course it's on the floor. I smack my lips, sitting up as I throw my head back in annoyance.

Slipping on my Timberline boots, I throw on my heavy army green jacket. My father gave it to me when he retired from the army. It was given to me when I was six, and now at twenty years old I still swim around in it. I stand at the Island, watching my mother frolic around the house for the things she needs. Strange behavior for a widow that just lost her husband last night. She kisses my cheek, and rustles my hair.

"Bye baby. I know it's your day off, so please be productive. None of that rapping nonsense." She scoffs, walking out the door. I sigh heavily, grabbing the full trash bag out the trashcan.

But now I come home to this empty space,
To a spirit unknown about your time erased,
It's funny how last night she was just crying in hurt, but now not weeping because her other half will be six feet in the dirt.
They say people grieve different, but I think we all grieve the same.
I still feel myself getting worked up when they mention your name. If you were here, I know you would question it because I question it too.
Does she really love you like she say she do?

This is my life, Savage Black...

Prologue. Be honest and tell me what y'all think. Don't just say you like it lol. Like express your true feelings towards it. 😁