Finding My Way Home

Sun, 04/17/2016 - 03:23 -- elmm682

The day I watched my first slam


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


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

This poem is about: 
My community


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