Friday, October 16, 2009

Brought up

Brought Up

I wasn’t brought up, to express my feelings
I wasn’t brought up, to cry when my cuts are bleeding
I wasn’t brought up, around gun fire
I wasn’t brought up, to look like a thug wit my attire
Who I am, is a poor black kid without much
who I am, is a poor black kid to be damed
because my plans keep failing
and i don’t know why
and when I ly
I just clinch my teeth and I try
I wasn’t brought up, to have the cops beat me for no reason
I wasn’t brought up, to cry when my cuts they be healin’
I wasn’t brought up, to have my education deduct
I wasn’t brought up, to believe in luck
I was raised, to believe in myself
I was raised, to be myself
so why do I feel like I’m so ghetto
so why do I think a different way
why do I not think before I say
this all makes me who I am today
I am a kid who falls in love to fast
fall through the cracks
takes in what he thinks
and doesn't realize the facts
Through this life Im on the highway to hell
this is just myself
I wasn’t brought up
to say on the streets and fail

1 comment:

  1. I like how this is personal. It tells a story almost. I like the parallel structure, and how it changes in the middle but goes back to the "I wasn't raised". Nice last line.

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