A Puppeteer Of Poverty That Risen Poem by Curtis Mosby

This life has been pulling my strings enough that I am in bondage.
Years of tears I lost on the concrete it unique how you live inside.
Could I not see more violence than I saw yesterday on the same street?
As I raise my hands to the sky with gun powder on my palm.
The alarm sets off in my head I am a victim of my own stupidity.
Please lord get rid of me someone pulling my strings before I can think.
My heart seems to sink deeper and deeper into submission.
If anyone listening I cry will there be time for redemption.
I tried to strangle myself with my own strings drinking until I die.
But who says you have to sober to see the truth a voice says I believe in you.
I dropp to my knees combine my hands and prayed until the sun came up.
Then I finally rise with my strings tied to the ground without a sound I broke away.
We all at times are puppet of our own minds I found faith to cut them down.
Look around life only want you to think it over those are lies.
Break away and fly to be another puppeteer of poverty that will rise.