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When I was young I met a cop

who shook my hand and called me sir.

His name was Mr. Friendly

but now his fa e is just a blur.

It seemed that my young face

would bring Mr. Friendly smiles.

Every Friendly had one,

east to west for miles and miles.

Then one day when I had grown

my hair was nappy, pants were sagging;

Mr. Friendly pulled up on me in his brand new paddy wagon.

On his face he wore no smile

his kind tone was just a ploy.

Instead of addressing me as sir

Mr. Friendly called me boy.

He said, "These streets are dangerous

your I.D. it should be shown."

I said, "To you they're dangerous

to me these streets are home."

He said I had an attitude

and that I was just a punk.

I told him, "I'm a man,

I say what the fuck I want."

Everyone should know

what was the end result;

Mr. Friendly and his partner

beat me to a bloody pulp.


I am one man with two faces

and one man with two faces can't be in two places

I can occupy but one space at a time

I can only don one face at a time

Is it a ruse, this face that I choose?

Or am I confused and each face is true?

In time I lost sight of the line that divides

and my faces conflated to defy my design

and that which I designed for me to survive

moved from my face and into my mind

because having two faces does not come without price

and such is a price that one pays with his life

for most of my life these faces did fight

for their opportunity city to be in the light

they persuaded my mind and pled with my heart

but the face that I am is the face in the dark

after evil and good, my rights and my wrongs

I now know to which face I belong.

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