Finding My Way Home
The day I watched my first slam
BAM
I was back at the day I heard he died
And all I could do was cry
A star football player, dead at sixteen
Maybe life never cuts clean
But he deserved more than a gone-wrong drug deal
I just never thought poetry could be so real
I keep on watching
And long after they end, their words still ring
In my head, I hear them
And I find my own zen
Somehow, those words bring me peace
They show me release
They bring me closer to people who have heard what I’ve heard and seen what I’ve seen
Kids who are so, so mean
Divorce
Sex by force
The death of a friend
When it wasn’t yet time for his end
I don't have to wander alone
When I've got poems as my home