Green Street Poet

What is the point of life

If we don’t plan to leave something behind

It will come back to you and haunt you for the rest of your life.

People die with bullets to their eyes

Grown men and women hate the truth, so they sit there and listen to the lies

Why do I even try I ask

Every subject in school I learn I lacked

Me, myself and I we labeled whack

A slang term to describe how worthless we are

I looked away from it, but sometimes I took it to heart

Nowadays doctors can't seem to find my heart

Dope dealing scenes and gunshots is mostly my theme  

I was heading to hell, until I seen poetry

Words whose sound alike, but mean different things

Like cocaine and heroin are two different drugs, but used too much

And end in the same fate, name on the gravestone and a sad news on your moms phone

Hatred and Depression is all seen

No love anywhere, Nowhere to be found,

Friends came and went but my mind stayed

My alter ego showed me the ways of writing

Poetry is my drug, as needles and bags of snow white are to my dead friends

I saw two options in life

Pick up the doe and slang in the corner

Or put it down and write with this pen

My English is broken, but not my voice

I want to tell truth, but in writing of poems

No one was there when I was the lowest

Now it's time to water myself and grow from this grave I was put in