He pushed it to the max, but his crew was happy on a fixed income. They left him in a room by himself while he struggled and choked snakes. This is all while the streets watched. People were as cold hearted as they were in Noah’s day as the young God stood silent watching his mansion get foreclosed on. I guess it was back to church with the sheep. Sadly, they all lost their hunger. They took pleasure in wasting all of their money on weed, alcohol and drugs while he worked himself to death for nothing but a thrill. Sleeping in a studio he visualized himself behind bars as the pool he once swam in stood empty, no activity. The many rooms that he and his business partners used to party in were now all silent, video cameras off. Now enemy of the state for no apparent reason, no wife, no home, just the property of the Bank of England. The truth is that he had no backup, as his mind reflected on what was left, a tear fell from his eye. Mom was gone, auntie was strung out on drugs along with cousin Lou. The product of a broken system he saw his real father, the drug dealer who came around on his terms. The man who he swore not to become. As they emptied out his garage there was the image of truth, enemies that showed no mercy and a luxury car riddled with bullets of jealousy. Laying on the sidewalk he began to run laps around the block of his home only to see his uncle trying to buy it at a sheriff’s sale with no intention of leasing it to him. Spinning around in fantasies he began to walk away from the town that raised him, he walked and walked until he found a friend that gave him a drink of water. It’s hard for a prophet to be a prophet in his hometown. He tried and now he had nothing left, looking his new friend in the eyes he said thank you, that’s all he could give back in return. The country had over a million people and only one of them gave him a drink and she lived in a hotel.
Empty Mansions
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