I was my own father, though I somehow possess another man’s name. Born in poverty, raised in poverty, but I told myself I wouldn’t be a product of my environment. I failed a few times, but I haven’t given up yet or ever plan to. I had a child early, went to jail, had another child. Went to jail. I had plenty of money and then plenty of days I slept in abandoned buildings. I had steak & shrimp. I had bag lunches given from a church. I had days of fun & nights full of pain. I mocked the unstable and I’ve been mocked when I was unstable. I hurt the ones that loved me and loved the ones that really hated me. I looked down on drunks & addicts and woke up one day addicted to coke, liquor and women. I let people cry on my shoulder and I cried on other people’s shoulder. I believed in God then turned around and said: What God? I would keep going, but my story is mine.