To me your just another punk in  the street,

struggling to defeat the heat laying at your waist side.

Try to hide behind the blindside of the false truths but rebuked by the harsh truth of death knocking at your door step.

Poor excuse for the pedestrian you laid flat out to prove your loyalty to the game.

Little do they know you left a "I'm so sorry" note behind to shield your pain.

The devil inside sent to cover the shame (smh) For shame.

Thug life painting portraits of Water color red a trail of fake bloods, perpetrating crips and disoriented gangsta.

Here some ad-vise-lords, not supporting the cause of chaos and destruction.

21st generation being sent to the penitentiary to be penetrated.

Butt bruising, more rules and no one to hear ya cry but your cellmate and he's choosing.

Shawty wanna be a thug exchanging education for faggot hugs.

Now who laughing?

Couple years serving time in the pen had to grow, expand  and extend the lack of knowledge you thought you had before you were incarcerated.

Stop perpetrating, trying to pass as a hard ass in the game.

Now that the games been ran on you what you gonna do?

Gonna make that move or be that fool....

again here we go, back at square one reminiscing on the opportunity  you had to grow.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741