PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am broken hearted 

My mind full of illusions of,

what I could have become

Life got tough and tough decisions had to be made

My chance was there, but it flew away

And now I've got no one but myself to blame

I curse this life

But circumstances drove me here

A place where the weak die 

And strong survive

My will to live

exterminated with the stench of death

Kill or be killed

That's the motto of the streets

I'm just a statistic, a number 

That fell through the cracks of a black man

Turning to crime at such a young age

Uneducated, ill-equipped for the outside world

All I know is this life of gangs and drugs

I grew up here and I'll die here

with my brothers by my side

Head held up high

Ready for the last fight