I live this life that isn't me.
I walk the street, that makes me weak.
I started dealing when I was ten,
You think you know me.
Take a walk on my side.
Daddy in jail and he doesn't care.
Mommy been gone for long time now.
She is probably to high to know that I'm alone,
Probably don't care.
Sisters running lose and forget me day by day.
Brother hold on tight not trying to let me get hurt,
God is punishing me for something,
for what? I don't know maybe being a live.
God took the last that cared.
One night my brother laid down and never woke again.
Now I'm seventeen probably be died for nineteen.
But who cares? not me or nobody that I know.
Barbara
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem