literature

Suicide Birth

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RemnantThoughts's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

Fate sets the day you’re born,
The beloved gods mourn,
Since they know it will be rough,
And hope you don’t get torn.
Forced to grow up, and be tough
Just a ghetto boy-
Broken inside,
No father, struggling mother
Wonder where the love resides.
Doesn’t know where his household
So he sticks to the streets,
Where it all unfolds,
Looking for quick bucks,
And fast friends.
But it’s cold in these streets,
Fair weather friends
Are the only ones he could meet.
He was thirsty and low on coke,
But kept them around,
They made sure he kept sporting,
And they love to smoke.
He hated his 9 to 5,
But was tired of him and mom
Being church mice.
Stayed geeked up,
So his mom
Could go to church nice,
Now he stays with money,
It should feel good right?
This a game of dice,
Born to fail,
Fate,
Heaven sent,
Or was born from hell?
Hearing those daily shots
He could never tell.
This poem is dedicated to anyone who has grown up with odds against them. That feel like they were born to fail. Whether that is poverty, born in the ghetto, lack of parental support, lack of friendship we gotta fight through our struggles to see the brighter things in the universe. This particular poem this is growing up as a ghetto boy force to turn to selling drugs in hope that he can avoid being killed and provide money to help him and his mother.
© 2014 - 2024 RemnantThoughts
Comments3
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RainProphecy15's avatar
Is this inspired by anything you've gone through personally? If so, you've taken your cruel reality and turned it into majesty on paper. Seriously, I love this. Very good job.