I wish I could spin this thread to read a different direction,
Clothing meant to be discarded rather than layered on.
That kind of backwards thinking where happiness is always
Just around the corner by the convenience store
In a bottle labeled with trouble and an X,
To the mark the spot you sold yourself too short.
Dealing with thugs waiting for the big payoff,
That you should’ve knew was too good to be true.
Curious cats poking their heads in and out
Of the makings and breakings of the underground.
Death too quick, in soundless silence.
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Submission Name: Corner Stack Jack: He Was Born to Be Black
