The hurricane blew me
I stood and endured
When I couldn’t withstand anymore
I allowed, permitted, and submitted
To all distress
Adapted, I indulged, led and became ruthless
Calling me names
I kept failing and falling
Compatriots,
You announced, pronounced,
Proclaimed, charted,
Vocalized, uttered and articulated
Good things never last in ruthless street
Ghetto,
You later saw me rising
You started trying
Making sure you spoil,
Disintegrated I became
All harms you did
Not to mention injuries realized from it
Scared, I went to church
Divine knowledge came into play
Ruthless ways
I dropped by the gates
Then I had the intuition
That you damage
Vitiate and booty
Cannot disfigure me
Instead they enhanced, flourished
Increased and grew me up
So no matter how you try
I shall never cry
The stigma
Vestige and scar of success
Would still remain in me
The lanky ghetto child.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A powerful perspective of the power of overcoming environmental factors.