To Whom It May Concern:
"I've seen some cold nights and bloody days." I've been in many hands and have taken many lives. I've been gripped by some killers and some coldblooded cowards. I've killed innocent people; many women and children. I gave you power. I demand respect. I instill that fear.
I remember when we first met; you were just a scared kid looking for protection. I protected you. No more running home from school, I was why you could stroll every step of the way. I made you a man.
I never asked you for anything in return. I did everything you wanted me to do. I was there for you when you needed me. It wasn't my fault you landed in prison. I gave you power. You abused me. You made me kill, not the other way around. Everything we did was your idea.
Don't blame me for your problems. When you were mad, you came looking for me. When you wanted get-back, you came to me. You could have learned how to fight or how to write. You could have learned to forgive or learned to let go but that wouldn't have been enough for you, would it? It wouldn't have given you what you needed. The upper-hand. The advantage. The control.
You chose me. You sponged-up the feeling I gave you. You exploited the respect I command. You capitalized on the fear I instilled. That's why you're sitting in a box. You never needed me for protection—you wanted me for power. You need me. I don't need you.
I heard you're getting out soon. You know where to find me. The streets are unforgiving. Nobody forgot what we've done together. Bloody hands never wash. But don't worry, I'll be waiting...and willing. Your friends might say they got your back. You sure you trust them? If you don't want to die by me, we'd better stick together.