The Rose.

Tue, 09/23/2014 - 00:56 -- Angel51

So this is what its like to be a rose that grew out of the concrete.?

the rough streets of chicago with no father?

i was never a good kid 

that typical hood rat 

that would never do jack because his mom was a drunk

foster care most of my life and its my fault for not knowing how to treat family?

its tough when people havent seen what you've seen 

whereas i have a big family tree

i grew amongst the weeds never meant to be

they used to look at me regretfully.

they never knew how to be proud of me 

i thought i had love once

but it was a lie 

so instead of feeling that pain, 

i chose to die.

they dont understand me and i wish they did.

because its hard to carry on

when you have all these burdens to carry alone.

now after 16 years and one attempt, im still doing it by myself 

oh so alone.....

 

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

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