Ten Years Old (C) 5-11-2010 Poem by Zahir Kijani

Ten Years Old (C) 5-11-2010



Optimistic mind,
Truly it all comes with age
Paige could never look at time like a page from a book
Mostly mistook, but that wouldn’t stand in her way
She started to say something that would brighten her day,
I know I’ll make it we can all do it if we try
Time goes by still too young to understand how we die,
It was her turn to finally show her worth in the world
These baby steps determined if she’d be a woman from a girl
Down the street she walked then dragged into an alley so dark
Right next to the house where her best friend’s mother Kelly would park
The man slapped her down with a face empty and cold
He unzipped his pants as she screamed “Sir, I’m only ten years old! ”

Taught to hate,
Many men and women fell to his hands
Clans would reject him but understandin wasn’t a thought,
He sought a different way of livin then the ways of before
He never dreamed that one day he’d be kickin down someone’s door
Shootin the whole place, burnin buildins, and holdin babies as hostage
He knew it was wrong but was told that a tear he shall not shed
Without a name he was looked upon as one of the masses
The main source of devastation, grief, crime, and disaster
It didn’t even matter to him cause his parents were dead
So why would he care if he had to blow off somebody’s head
He walked into any area with his head up hardy and bold
Told to kill himself but said “Sir, I’m only ten years old.”

Workin his life away
But what else could he do?
Through the means of makin a shoe he had to help.
Felt that cause of his impoverished life he had to live
Remembered the faded images of hugs his grandma would give
Told him he’d make it to America and maintain their legacy
A vast paradise she said and in his heart he bet it’d be,
After her death orphanage was one of two ways to being
But his grandmother’s words of heaven was all he kept seeing,
Ran away to the Nike factory to make a way for his livin
But found that he wasn’t makin as much as he was givin
Kept to his task because in his mind remained what he was told
Needed a job so when they asked he said, “Sir, I’m only ten years old.”

Diggin was his life
As of now he didn’t have much a choice,
Voice told him he could soon rejoice but that wasn’t the case
The others played a game for gold and they called it a race
Maybe today will be his lucky day but how will it be
Cause only a stone was what he needed to fulfill it you see.
Helmet became his best friend for it offered protection
The only thing that stayed on top when he faced the rejection
All he was good for was to keep choppin away at the Earth
You’d think that it hurt, but this is what he’s been doin since birth
His lucky day as he stated though it was a ritual sayin
From this piece maybe the man on top will start payin
They peered onto the rock and was astounded by the Gold
Smiled and said he’s sixteen but he said, “No Sir, I’m only ten years old.”

Follow the leader
He thought his favorite rapper was somethin
Nothin could stop people from frontin but he wouldn’t snitch
Felt that it was even bad to relay to his mother an itch
The streets was his destiny as he was made to believe
He couldn’t leave he had to rep it from the dusk to the eve
Jail wasn’t hell anymore like most people would rule
To him factually he’d only get there from bein cool
Already cloudin up his mind with the powers that be
His lust for Mary Jane, he even tried solicitin me
He thought he’d convince me if he started actin real tough
Young but he claimed he was old enough to puff this stuff
Continued to speak so I made him think I was sold
Asked him his age and he said “Sir, I’m ten years old.”
Sadly another dude bought the Dutch for him though
What does that go to show?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Hans Vr 18 June 2010

This poem takes us through a few troubling scenarios. Each look like child abuse but each have something from young adults never developed beyond the age of ten. Lots and lots of tragic moments in this world. Let's make a positive difference every day. Thanks for sharing lots of thoughts and feelings in this well written piece.

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Zahir Kijani

Zahir Kijani

Buffalo, New york
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