I wake up and wonder why I'm still trying?

I'm tired of being poor, of working and getting nowhere.

Over the fact that my moms got to work twice as hard as my dad to earn half as much as him.

That she struggles to give me $20 after trying to pay bills and for food,

while my dad isn't willing to spend more than that on me.

But I'm here feeling hopeful and that's good.

Cause one day I think I wont be so poor.

Maybe one day I wont have to share a room with my mom while my brother sleeps on a couch that's too small and narrow for him.

One day I won't remember so vividly when a girl asked me if I needed spare change to buy my lunch then laughed while my friends looked at my sympathetically.

I don't need your spare change,

and I don't need no sympathy either.

I need a chance that could make it better.

That way I could keep my promise to my mom, my grandma, the teachers who said not to stop.

And when I'm done feeling tired about how unfair things seem at the moment,

I get up and try again.

Because when all is said and done,

I know what it is I need to do make sure that I'm better than where I started.

And I am hopeful.