If you’re trailer park trashy
Then why does your mom
Drive something flashy?
She must be selling that hash, she—
Must be selling ass—she
Don’t even know your dad-dy.
Yeah, we’re broke as hell, can’t even afford a lie, Mama’s working hard while daddy’s chasing high,
Brother’s locked up, got a cell for a home,
Church kicked him out, said he’s better alone.
They don’t know the story, they just see the mess,
Judging from the outside, can’t see the stress.
Daddy claims another kid, but won’t give us a cent,
Sends her money, but won’t even pay our rent.
If you’re trailer park trashy
Then why does your mom
Drive something flashy?
She must be selling that hash, she—
Must be selling ass—she
Don’t even know your dad-dy.
Every night it’s a show,
fights echo off trailer windows,
Yelling ‘bout the past,
throwing punches, broken glass
They choose me when they need to confide,
I got the weight of the word when
they demand I pick a side
Mama loves him still, but he’s lost in his vice,
Shooting steroids, thinking it’ll fix his life.
Both of 'em blame, but it’s a twisted game,
Talking trash ‘bout each other,
I love ‘em, but it’s a shame.
They don’t see the struggle, they don’t feel the pain,
Just a kid in the middle, trying to break the chain.
I’m tired of the judgment, of the whispers and the stares,
‘Cause behind all the chaos, there’s love that still cares.
So I’ll keep defending, through the thick and the thin,
In this trailer park life I’m living in
If you’re trailer park trashy
Then why does your mom
Drive something flashy?
She must be selling that hash, she—
Must be selling ass—she
Don’t even know your daddy.
-
Author:
Bratty (
Offline) - Published: February 13th, 2025 12:28
- Comment from author about the poem: I’m the oldest of six siblings. I’m grown and moved out, but my younger brothers and sisters are still living in that chaos. My parents fight and disrespect each other. My brother stays in trouble. People in the trailer park and small community talk. They judge from the outside without feeling any of the pain. It feels like I’m trying to hold everything together while they tear it apart. People look at us from the outside and just see a mess, and yeah, they’re not wrong, but I still love them.
- Category: Family
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments1
A touching write on many levels, dealing with inner struggles of a family, the effects it has on the children and how people to easily judge and label from a distance, without any idea of what is really going in the peoples life`s. Expressing some difficult thoughts and feelings very well in this write
Thank you. I always appreciate your feedback.
You are very welcome
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