My background is sad. I had a relationship with my stepfather, and so called him my dad. My real father was jailed, as a black man he has failed. Often felt like an outsider, in suburban I grew up. No similarities in others, in uniform I suit up. Same clothes for days, my mother struggled to stay, in the neighborhood we maintained. Middle class, but felt poor, in a family of four, children. Attention was given, but dispersed unevenly. No one to depend on, just this household as our family.
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Published by elijahlikeswriting
I write for the sole purpose of expression. View all posts by elijahlikeswriting