A Flower Planted in December

I was born in December of 96

A winter baby indeed

I am left handed, so strange as being the first girl to mommy

Three big brothers a father and a momma, but never a full house

So to prosper was a must

11 months later comes my Irish twin

My baby brother is my right hand mans

Its funny how I used to "Hate him"

but as we got older our bond stronger

I swear it feels like I made him

Grew up in the projects where the artist werent artist and the paint was blood

the brush as a gun

and the pastel as the young angels

Never knew poverty was a struggle because I wanted for nothing

High honor roll, lunch with the mayor

exceeding test scores, school was my major

Somehow I still couldnt escape the statistics of a young black girl

born and raised in the 3rd world

A flower cant grow without soil, remember?

So I made my own foundation

Even though I get unfocoused 

My main focus is to make it to post-secondary schooling

graduate with a couple of majors

Make six figures and then some

Then maybe, just maybe

The sun will shine much brighter on the flower that was planted in December


This poem is about: 


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