Mission

Smoke filled his lungs a deep breath and pause. Memories of his childhood and how he became nameless in society. He was a star in high-school. A superstar at both ends of the court. He had dreams and ambitions to be the next superstar. High on his ambitions his transition was less than stellar. A broken family and a hood that was never any good. The game took his short lived name and to this day he remains nameless in society.  An after thought to some, a pigment filled, ratio that was never thought about much he was only in the game for the clutch. A clutch that is often forgotten, a high-school superstar that couldn’t make it out of the bar.

Life is good for some. They say life is what you make it. They say go out and get it but if you don’t have the skill set your an outcast or a mental wreck. Neglect, no foresight he just wants to get high, suicide is in his thoughts. Broken windows and caskets. Is this what life is about, a dropout, sell out and no voice, some people don’t have a choice. Minimum wage is all rage. He could not support a family on his own. He thought about his high school days, his mental is now deranged.

Mentally corrupt and society has given up on this man with dreams and ambitions. How can he support his team on 300 hundred a week? For some society seems bleak. He was on bending knee asking God to pray for thee. A stressful situation for a man that’s running out of time. His high school days are behind him now. Society has killed his dreams and ambitions, it’s hard for some to make that transition!

Raymond H Smith

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