lawyer
Learn more about other poetry terms
Growing up in the ghetto
I pushed the pedal to the medal
Thinking the drama was cool
Fighting was smooth
I was a fool
To believe that was true
Moving to the burbs
You deserve to rot in hell like a Cracked, rotten forgotten egg in the middle Of a field on a scorching hotTexas summer day.My mother, my caretaker, the woman (figure out a transition) That has made mistakes, trustedYou with her freedomMr wright o
You deserve to rot in hell like a Cracked, rotten forgotten egg in the middle Of a field on a scorching hotTexas summer day.My mother, my caretaker, the woman (figure out a transition) That has made mistakes, trustedYou with her freedomMr wright o
I really want to be a lawyer.
I really like wearing button-up shirts,
And khaki skirts.
I really like fighting,
But fighting with my words.
A good man goes to war and I am the one willing to fight.
The court my battle field, where words are my weapons,
Existing not as knives or guns but as bombs.
When I dream these days, I want my eyes to be wide open, I don’t want to sleep through it.
It might sound crazy but I want to see everything, good, bad and indifferent.
When I dream, I dream big
Money cannot buy happinessThough, it does make stability
The world today is revolved around moneyI guess I can understand why
People with more moneyReap greater benefits
Going to college is what's important to meDon't worry about anyone elseI'm not worried about anybody elsebecause I only care about meI don't want to be nothing that I know I don't want to be
