...to each according to his deeds

he robbed, raped and killed, upbringing was his defense
i raped, pillaged and killed, been stolen from is my defense.

To him, i am a representative of my people only capable of war and brutality
even the gods have conspired to condemn me to a hellhole of flood, famine, drought and pestilence
and when i move, it is to his demise
while he had weed, i had "jamba"
while he painstakingly prepped and shot up crack
i used the gunpowder from my bullet to make brown brown which made me
His projects, my slums His gangs, my ethnic groups the same.

To me his upbringing is an excuse
His welfare forever greater than my need
Forever living on the legacy of my trauma

Now we're both imprisoned
him with his brother's and uncles and maybe his father together with among too many of his people
no longer shackled but stilled entrapped in cages.
His shackled mind constantly whacked when any thoughts of hope pop up
me. my world is my prison
every walking moment a fight to stay working
dying where i fall down from my toils
tortured with memories of a collective past
condemned by my history
my stay of execution
an opportunity to kill my lingering hopes day after day

Maybe just maybe we should try,
From each according to his ability,
To each according to his deeds.