Don’t look down at me, call me a crack head, lay down in my bed, but I need my integrity. I will never bow down, the truth is the best of me, morals are ninety per cent of me. Yes I smoke crack, but I will never turn my back, I need you to know, a yard dog straight attack, my bite makes bones snap. Cant use me, abuse me, laugh through me, absolutely, fine, not a crime to stand and be proud, be loud. My morals stay intact. I fear not that I smoke but call me a thief or a mug, prepare to croak. Some kind of joke, ha. Pride comes before a fall, like the man who rushed and jumped over a wall. Not realising the thirty foot drop on the other side, keeping me sane is my intense sense, of pride. I am alive.

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