They Can't Hurt Me No More!

About the Book

Society Call Me a Cry Baby A human angel told me once it takes a strong man to cry. For almost fifteen years I thought my tears didn’t matter. I was there, by bedside; holding Mother Nature’s hand tightly; to witness the birth of genocide! As the man made healers looked upon the deliverance from the womb of embedded bondage of chaos. Surprisingly as they raised their hand high towards the sun to come down, with such hurtful force to smack the innocent derriere of our precious young generation. Impatiently waiting for a pulse inside life’s nurture… I heard the cries of every young boy and girl that ever fell victim to any pain that cause grief; from Jamarcus Bell to Trevon Martin, Kristina Jackson, Destiny Nichole Quarrels, Samantha Jhonson, Justine Aaberg, Emily Nicole Trotter, Julie Berrick, Cole Wilson, Kevin Buchman, Aarron Jurek, and their voices screamed full of pain!! I first panicked and grabbed every emotion inside myself to shamefully not respond to these babies; continuously, desperately fighting and seeking to tend to my own baby. Once the ears of my heart opened up to seriously empathize with the tenderness of these kids broken voices and cry’s. Mysteriously my own Childs voice joined in, crying out for the exact same cure; as there little soft voices vibrated inside the merit of the bones inside my body. I yelled up to the most high; to please give me a precipitate of fortitude amongst the ability to at least aware society! For they can identify and understand to decipher the fluids inside my tears; I repeat times ten in prayer. Don’t let this discrimination of illness knock on your door in labor; carrying a virus of destructions. Close the door with the knowledge to aware your babies, so they can adopt the strength and faculties to aware their babies. If I can visionary stop the pain and crying before it starts; then you can too. I urge you all to get under this same umbrella, no matter what nationality or creed you are. Or maybe that’s why your faces stay so dry while chins held so high. However, I am to endure the sensitive rain drops from above that are constantly forming inside these children’s eyes… YES!! I AM YOUR CRY BABY… Author: Vernon T. Bateman

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