A tale of life, kicked to the curb, on the mean streets of the city.
some may find their life at times...a living hell on earth.
Addicted from the womb to crack
a gift of constant pain.
Within the week his momma dies
a fathers never found.
Though raised on public welfare
they failed to meet the need.
He's set adrift and windless
in a sea of apathy.
One of them confused his mind
while still a naive waif.
Which weakened his resolve to choose
a higher righteous path.
Without a lamp to light the way
uncertain of the course.
Detatched he hid behind the shades
so none could see his grief.
Defiled by desperation
too soon its willing pawn.
He bears the weight of drug abuse
the shame of carnal crimes.
Yet destiny forestalled his time
as heated acts of scorn.
Sparked his final dying breath
an early day in June.
As life spilled out before him
on the ghetto hardened streets.
Making it to manhood
for some is still a risk.
A child who's born in darkness...may never learn to dream
or come to know the sweet caress...of a mothers loving hands.
Poetry by David L Wright
Read 976 times
Written on 2008-01-30 at 02:25
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A Gift Of Constant Pain
Not all are seen with loving eyes...a legacy of birthsome may find their life at times...a living hell on earth.
Addicted from the womb to crack
a gift of constant pain.
Within the week his momma dies
a fathers never found.
Though raised on public welfare
they failed to meet the need.
He's set adrift and windless
in a sea of apathy.
One of them confused his mind
while still a naive waif.
Which weakened his resolve to choose
a higher righteous path.
Without a lamp to light the way
uncertain of the course.
Detatched he hid behind the shades
so none could see his grief.
Defiled by desperation
too soon its willing pawn.
He bears the weight of drug abuse
the shame of carnal crimes.
Yet destiny forestalled his time
as heated acts of scorn.
Sparked his final dying breath
an early day in June.
As life spilled out before him
on the ghetto hardened streets.
Making it to manhood
for some is still a risk.
A child who's born in darkness...may never learn to dream
or come to know the sweet caress...of a mothers loving hands.
Poetry by David L Wright
Read 976 times
Written on 2008-01-30 at 02:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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