Golden Spoons May Rust

Sat, 08/08/2015 - 23:48 -- Jessclo

Extraordinary isn't birthed by the privileged. It is birthed by the starved. You ask me, you say, what is extraordinary? Well I answer, I say, not you who bites the hand that feeds. I say, not you who became great because you started great. The extraordinary are the people that grew from the dirt and didn't revisit. The ones who were influenced by the rainy season, but not defeated. You ask, you say, what is extraordinary? I answer, I say, the garden between the rock and the hard place. The one with half light and tough ground. The one that grows only towards the sunshine. You ask and I say, the one that took the only chance it was ever given. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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