A child robs from a store,
A thousand dollars
Some pieces of paper so plain,
Losing his future and little to gain,
A thousand dollars.
He goes to jail for pulling a gun
He goes to jail at 18 and his life is done.

The boy hardens into a man
Gets out of the cage, tries to do what he can
But they put him up on a stage.
"So tell me, son, you've got no skills.
You're 28 with a record to ****."
Every other candidate comes first,
One ***** up, now you're the worst.
You chose a fate before you knew your fate
They'll call you back so you sit and wait.
So you sit and wait.

Can't even be trusted to take out the trash
So you punch out the mirrors
Looking back at you, only seeing trash.
He's not thinking clearly,
Writes up a quick note and signs it sincerely.
Shaky hands tie a knot,
The only thing he saw as a blessing,
I wonder if the system taught him his lesson.

Labelist theory states:
If a person is labeled something they are not and they don't agree with, one day they will stop defending themselves and be exactly what they are accused of being.

I'm being called an arsonist by a jury of my peers. By a jury of people who hang with me but now listening to someone who solely wants to see me dangling. I find myself constantly trying to protect my image like copyrights. But no matter the protection plan I enstate, I always find my name somewhere being defaced. I guess respect, loyalty and friendship wasn't enough to protect something like that. If it is then why am I catching charges. Why am I catching OJ treatment when yall say I will be missed like Ladanian on the chargers. Why is action only taken when the news say to take someone out like Michael Vick and not when a player asks you to look at the real problem like Colin Kaepernick. Maybe I'm not the one on trial, maybe this trial was a trial and error to see if this jury was a jury of my peers in the first place. And if this is the case then this a mistrial because I won't allow people who say they will miss me like Ladanian to the chargers be the same ones to take everything I worked with to another area code and call it by the same name. You can foot me the Bills because this is a OJ glove that I see fit. I am arsonist to the ties we had because that same rope won't be my nuse. I set fire to all your expectations of me because I won't watch my name get defaced like your personal property anymore. I accept your label for me with open arms because there is some borderline truth behind every sterotype, rumor, or lie because I have found mine.

He was a smooth criminal.
Smooth to the touch, rough with the heart.
His body screamed thief in the way he walked, talked, and kissed.
His lips grazed mine.
He kissed me everything but gave me nothing.
He walked with the grace of Angel's.
Talked like he befriended God.
By the time I noticed he stole everything, he was gone.
My heart ached, my body cried, and my mind was in disbelief.
He took me and ran.

You’re forcing my hand, forcing the lungs to constrict,
What will you do
with the bits of love I’ve left to you?

I don’t trust you anymore

“Nothing is wrong”,
Let it be known
I’ve just had a bad week,
Though that’s naive.
A crooked dream
I like to think
about.

I know I’m surrounded.
Blood red hair you dye to stay pretty,
Like the blood drawing sharks in calm waters.

— I guess I deserve it.

Dear Criminal,
As you sat there before me, in prison chains
I couldn’t help but wonder if a while ago
Your circumscription and castigation would be quite the same
Because for now, no matter the caliber of deed been done
You end up in a somber place of confinement
Where we all keep getting locked up one by one
But at least be glad, dear malefactor, that it isn’t 1675
For back then and in your position
How do I put this… well, you wouldn’t be quite so alive