CRY

Sitting in rehab bored as hell.

I ain't go lie it feels like jail.

Only difference is I ain't in a cell.

Thinking about what brought me here.

Oh, I know, I was tired of sheeding those tears.

Thinking about all those years.

I wasted on drinking and getting high.

Leaving my kids with my parents to raise, that shit hurts, i ain't go lie.

Late at night starring at the sky.

Asking the Lord, why lord, why, do I have to cry?

Knowing I'm not supposed to question him.

Especially living in this world of sin.

So I countinue on to pray and pray, as the days go by.

And ask the Lord to give me strength, so I won't cry.

 

 

WRITTEN BY LAMONICA JUSTINE CHARLES

This poem is about: 
Me

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