I am who?

     I got familly thats family but not real blood, 

and I got enimies closer to my family then my real blood.

  We don't speak, money got they mouth taped shut,

soul sold to mud.

   Drugs keep em to high they forget how to breath,

blinded from the need of granite, dust, and loose in-betweens.

  My relationship with their hatred toward my daddy got em hatin me.

  I been everywhere,

in and out strangers houses, but never had a real home,

physically surronded by folk, but mentally stayed alone.

  Me and my brother invariably been separated,   

he now 23, married, and well mind fractionated.

  I am happy for his success, 

never looking down upon a who, though we never really met.

  I look up to a glass mirror a reflection of myself,

but I'll never see what people see because I've never met myself.

  I put my heart and my soul in these lyrics I write, experience made me,

still,

I don't know who determines whats "right".

  Who made up these lies?

Our taught to believe history education precived from one side.

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741