Ghetto Story Poem by Blessing Asake

Many from my source with wide dreams,
Waking up with alot of imaginations,
Imaginations with no help; limit to one self,
Shatter with alot.

Nothing to write home about,
Starving for mansion; Just in our imaginations,
The old story continues for generation; waiting for saviour.

Dreams are in thoughts
No love for ghetto: we lavish and slaughter with lust,
Talents are going for free,
Egg with no sauce.

Yet I can still have a home,
I place to call mine,
Where world call dirty
I'm from ghetto.