The System

The System, the system of a black man going to jail for life that didn't  even get to say goodbye to his wife, or motha or even his own little brotha. The same man that barely got to teach his son how rise up and be a man, the same man that barely got to teach his son how to treat a lady. But now i can tell you that boy has grown up shady. The boy is now calling females bitches and hoes though he doesn't know how to treat a lady despite the the fact that the boy has grown up shady. The boy doesn't know now what to teach his son based on the things that he thinks his father has done. The System, the system that goes on and on to make a struggle for our daughters and sons. The wife; the wife now works two jobs to put food on the table and keep a roof over her children's head. When her kids see her she always in her bed. Worn out and tired, thinking of why she continues to desire to live in a world as hard as this one. All she needs is rest but all she wants is peace. The mother; 1/3 of her is missing. Incarcerated, shackled behind bars. Her first born child gone, she realizes she'll never see him without that khaki jumpsuit or handcuffs around his arms. She's broken, because her son is not the only one in there. She is too. To all the mothers out there, you understand why. Because your children are all of you. So when he calls and she asks him how he's doing, he breaks down and explain that he's going through. The hardest thing a mother can hear is that her child doesn't wanna push through. But that’s “The system,” the system that goes on and on to make a struggle for a daughters and sons.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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