Poem By Laura Cummings
Being brought up in the ghetto
seeing murder on the streets,
people walking by,
registering no surprise.
Looking out your window and feeling like you could just be watching the news.
People doing drugs in full view
track marks displayed as a sign of strength.
Mothers sitting on needles,
waiting for their kids to come home.
Being told im spechial
worshiped like the hot desert sands worship the rain.
Being bullied for my name and race,
tar poured in my hair
clothes set on fire.
A useless father who amounts to nothing,
drinks himself stupid
throws himself down the stairs,
breaks his neck.
Mother grows insane
forgets why she loves me,
tries to poison my mind.
Being bought up in the ghetto
how can i amount to anything
if this is the life handed out to me?