It didn't used to me scared. I was once happy. The kinda of happy that made sad smile but like all good things it soon changed.. My story isn't new.. They know about it, my therapist at she likes to call herself. I have been in here, in an asylum for a year.. They say they can help me buy I tell them they can't because I don't wanna help myself. I tell them I wanna stay here where it's quiet and peaceful and they look at me strange and ask me where? And I tell them...
In his smoke
Jan 4 1992
Myia ?myia?
Where is that useless girl, always off smokin something wrong.. Those where my mother's words. Her voice I hated....
When I did answer her.. She hit me, broke me but never attempted to mend me
"I was smoking nothing mama" I said but it was too late.. Things came upon my flesh. Things hard enough to break a mortars back but I knew the pain, I knew I had to bleed and my blood form a pool before she would let me be
Mama was never mama, she was just some street woman my real mama left me with. I know she feel angry for wah my real mama do to her. .so angry she spit in my face every time she see me.. She told me bout my real mama.
" your mama be livin life up in the city like queen like rich fool . She don't know nothin bout u.. Look at me myia she's gonna pay for everything she did to me... "
It was outta pain I worked my way to the city to find Alomykia Shawn. The devil who needed hell.
