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What we see in the light of day draws the shapes of our dreams at night we are called humans and when we pray we all say dear God make this dream come through. Amen. When asked, a ghetto boy replied my dream is to become a /senior man/ the one who’s being chased from a regular society who controls the affairs of the ghetto the planter the chairman the owner of a cartel the one whose dreams our laws and prayers fight against We’re busy fondling the breast of our phones depositing our minds in the abstract while avoiding reality’s stony face