No time for speakin.

Tweakin out of my mind.

Wishin I could have a piece of the good life.

A real family.

With rules and structure.

To help with my next move.

So I can get back into the groove.

I'm tired of being lost.

Dealing with life on my own.

I'm not even fully grown.

I'm a 22 year old male.

Tryna stay away from the crack sales.

A tale from any other minority.


  • PoeticPsycho

    This is a good poem that you explain one of the many realities of growing up in the hood. If this is about you personally then I hope that you find your way because that's some hard shit you're dealing with. If you would like, check out the poems that I wrote and posted. Some of them are about similar issues. Peace.

  • Hoopie

    Most def bro I will do that

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.