Educated Stress

Introduction

Now I know I didn't struggle much growing up, but I know pain.

I've felt her touch.

"But Bo, what about your father's punch? Or that one guy's blunt that fucked him up and led his truck to spill the guts of your cuz' onto the road where you wrote your very first poem? Your 'She's Hurt...' poems!"

Did you even know him? Did you know his life? Did you know his wife? She drained his life... literally. An aborted fetus without an agreement.

Now, I'm not saying it was his time, he was meant to die or say 'goodbye.'

I'm just saying don't feel bad when this book gets sad and if you get mad at my beliefs, then understand I'm only glad to use my left hand to show the world who I am.

So if you disagree, then you disagree. The problem's you, it's not me 'cause I'm just being who I wanna be. I've been writing since I was fifteen. I've seen some things I can't unsee. I've done some things I can't undo.

And the way I cope with my lost hope is writing poems. It calms me down. It keeps me sound, but not safe.

It's just my way to clearly say what I wanna say.

It's just MY way,
my only way
to escape.