About my life, the reason is not where I live and how
crank control's my mother and her life.
I can hear my brother shagging with a crack whore
in the living room
theirs no one but D.C.F. for me to talk to.
Besides of being accused by them of betrayal
and for obvious reason's that's why I won't, I was
told my dad got killed in Afghanistan
I never saw him.
I never touched drugs.
Other's say they never will.
Tonight, my mom and brother are going to go to jail.
And I again will be left, alone.
So as I sit here, hungry and freezing,
wishing someone could come and save me
I realize I'm on my own
and nobody's is coming here to save me.
I'm afraid that my creative juice's have dried up.
Merry Christmas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sad happening but it's happening in America's backyard right now