letter to a inner city kid.

i was the nobody in the hall, the loaner on the wall, i’ve walked in those same off brand running shoes that’s why this new poem  that i wrote right here is dedicated to you. dedicated to the girl who’s pregnant with no clue on what she’s gonna do or what's her next move, see she’s judged and ridiculed  misused by the jocks in her homeroom, but what they don't know, is her daddy is her baby's father . and her mother is to high with the birds to give her daughter kind words . and you wonder why she comes to class wearing all black, its because she decided to wear her feeling on the outside instead of wearing a mask,  i'm surprised that  intellectual young girl  who's pregnant  ain't strung out on crack.  i was that outsider, that non common denominator  the girl that nobody ever  really wanted  i was the last one chose although i was always a rose noone bothered to see my petals  , i  never really fit in the box provided to me, i was always escaping through the holes trying to find my mystery trying to find my destiny.  but in all reality it was always supposed to be this way, that’s why i can live and tell my story today  that's why i can say i've walked down that road kicked over some rocks hit my face on the concrete and bruised my knee. i’ve stumbled and fell only to live and tell that it is okay to walk down this path alone, sometimes you won't have a home at home .  that's why i can dedicate this poem to that girl sitting there looking to be loved at a young age, so she looks for in mysterious ways failing at finding mr right  many times she's built up anger and rage inside  and just to flip the page now she's grown and of age, and she's got a baby on the way  now she’s sitting on the side of her bed as he walked out on her again,  i've sang those same love songs my broken heart exposed by my baritone . this poem is for that girl who never really felt apart of. may her soul rest in perfect peace because your jokes made her seem a little off ease  made her slit her wrist and fly like a dove. this poem is for that boy on 7th ave gang banging and selling drugs and he's only a child trying to provide for his family because his father walked out and left them outside. that kid who never really had enough to eat  may his soul never cry or weep and i pray as he counts those sheep at bedtime he falls asleep with his dreams at heart  . and although it aint right this poem is for that mother with 5 who steals to make her kids dinner at night , i hope she knows that god is with her. this  poem is for all the young people who are promised unfair unclean dreams in the inner city streets. the girl  who was promised riches and wealth the boy who was promised  a brand new home for his family. her promise was a lie in disguise now she’s on her back  spreading her thighs and that same boy with the football career is pushing coke and will be locked up next year ,  i just hope you little boys and girls that's locked in this inner city gate don't grow up and develop self hate. because god is gonna come and break these inner city chains. this poem is for all my friends with a wondering dream and a ounce of hope, this poem is for all the special kids, the outside of the box kids,  the misfits the rebels the ones that nobody wants, the goners the lost  the found, the broken individual in the huge crown this poem is for me and for every word i speak. when everyone in the world tells you “nope” just let them know that you are  not dead and you are still dope

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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