A nation built on the pain of a girl, the pain of the poor, the pain of the black man who cannot dream of more. I find no relief from the pain that adds weight to a life that is wasted digging my grave. There is no other way to say that I cannot breathe, I cannot fly, that I cannot think to find a path back to Him. How can my purpose come from giving relief to those who do not give the same to me? I cannot live anymore with this nonsense. I cannot live anymore with no sense from these know naughts. My words only go to waste at their ears. I beg of you all listen to me. The comfort you have comes not from your doing. It comes from the blood of those like me. I own nothing in this physical world, but you owe everything to me.