As a young Lad I saw more **** than the average drug dealer. Never in my life did I do any. But to see my mom without needle holes in her arm was like a gift from the God I yet to believe in.
At the age of 16 I would think back in the day I had it good. I was a free spirit. Firefly catcher, wasn't afraid of strangers, ran the streets with my mates at night. Street lights were my time to be back home, supper is waiting.

But then I remembered. Back in the day; **** was my moms supper, **** was my moms best friend.
To see a needle every day was as normal as the yellow school bus that would take my friends and I to school.
A trap house was mothers EVERY house.
She told me she wasn't doing anything, she didn't hide it anymore. My mom going to prison wasn't even a wake up call for me, my mom losing custody of my sister wasn't my wake up call.
I didn't realize **** wasn't something everyone did.
Back in the day....
I thought it was normal...
As normal as my life Was....