Placed in Poverty
What does it take to stay awake
And not hate
Every eye that passes by
Makes me wonder if they try
Or do they categorize
My kind within wicked lies
As if every time a brother dies
It was gang ties
But it seems to be
Reality
Because the police always bother me
Hand cuffed
Roughed up
Thrown to floor
Doesn't even seem like protection anymore
Where can I go so I won't have to lock my doors
Or good homes I can afford
And yes
I work hard
Still stressed
But thank God
Cuz I'm blessed
To even make it this far
This poem is about:
Me