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"38 Years Of Pain"

Today I picked up a copy of the Los Angeles Times and quickly turned to the local news. there I read "Inglewood: Bullet Riddled Body Found In Drivers Seat". I turn to the next page and read "Compton: Man Slain, Friend hurt in Apparent Gang Attack". And the next one really hit me hard "Lynwood: Driver Shot To Death Indentified By Family". The victim was only 21. I imagined what it would have been like if my moms would have had to go and identify my body. I thought real hard about my 38 years on this planet and my life in South Central Los Angeles.

My mind is filled with images mostly of things that I have done to myself and my family, and my people. The Drug usage, the tattoos, the shootouts, the robberies, the police chases, the revenge killings. I have paid and am still paying for what I have done. Spending 15 years in prison was not what I thought I would have become...a convict.

Growing up in the ghetto I thought I was "loved" by my homeboys and there was love for a small period of time. I grew so attached to the hood that me and moms grew far apart. When people did in fact care about me I felt they didn't. I dedicated my life to "Colors" in the 1970's banging full time for the "East Side" pushing away all those who were not apart of the hood culture and lifestyle. when I was initiated into the gang in 1974 I was given a shotgun and a set of new friends. In 1979 fresh out of the "hall" I fell heavily into smoking pot and pcp or known as "sherm" which was smoked often by gang members throughout the 70's and 80's. Before 1981 I was shot several times in the back and nearly paralyzed. The hood was my obligation and nothing else. Even school and prison was a place I often dreamed about going to almost as one would dream of being rich and famous prison was for the real "riders".

How naieve the young mind can be. I was locked in and out of Juvenile halls my entire teenage years. I was sent to the "Crip Module" in the LA county Jail and there I saw crips raping crips, police beating inmates and at one point in 1985 when I was there an all out war broke out between the Crips and the C.O.'s. While I was spending all of this time locked away Los Angeles was quickly decaying and turning into a battle zone.

When I was realeased from prison on parole in the late 1980's I saw most of my childhood friends pictures laid out on a table with funeral services and dates. There was dozens. I don't think any of you can imagine what it was like, like losing your parents but dozens more just as close. I grew sickly and depressed over this matter and would spend most of my days sleeping away the pain, waking up to a 40oz beer. I started to think deeply about what was happening to my life and what had actually taken place in my hood. It was a system of death that nobody could control.

we were the root of all problems in the city, the homicides, the dope dealing and gangs. But how did it become this way? Maybe that is a question I will never be able to answer. To all of my brothers and sisters out there in the world in whatever surroundings you live in think deeply about what I have told you because I don't want moms to have to go an identify you.

There is a way for all of us to succeed and it's through belief in ourselves and in God. I tell only what's real. I have 3 friends on San Quentin's Death Row and have seen the worst of the worst. I want you to wake up and expect life to hand you greatness. I want you to expect a wonderful day and not a painful day and an unhappy day. Spend time to relax and think about your days and use your time in a usefull way. ALWAYS be productive and never quit because brothers and sisters, evertime you make a mistake you take a step back in life all together. I don't want y'all to end up where I did in life.

I want the best for my people as well as others.

Always believe you have a chance.

Andre Burton's words.