A Flower Grew From Concrete

They said I would fall To stuck in my dreams That I would sink Deep beneath the ground I thought all children were angels Sent from God But I wasn't good enough to keep my wings At a young age I was stripped of the reality I knew And force to mature into something I was not quite able to And here birthed from the Wounded virgin womb Was a poor helpless child with a lack of trust in the world That forever turned its back Time and time again And all I longed for the most was a trusting friend But as I grew old I found they changed And I not talking about age I'm talking about the other side of their face To this day no one will quite understand Where I stand and why I choose To dress like this Why I write poetry rather than express my emotions Why I am the way I am But lately I risen from what they foretold of me I became more a than a broken child Spit on With their wet lips that never close They all thought I was bound to fail But from a dark world I rose.