I’m obsessed with pain
Because pity comes with
Fighting my own made-up fights
“How do you know what I go through!?
How can you possibly understand!?”
I wish I could say those words
Yet they remain locked in verse
Every waking moment I rehearse
Front to back and back in reverse
Cause maybe if I keep yelling
To myself
I’ll start to believe
My own delusions
This confusion
The illusion
That I’m in pain when really I’m not

I want to hurt so that I can say:
“You’re hurting me, please go away.”
And yet I always stay

Astoria, Queens, New York
Born but not raised
To a family enslaved
To work till their graves.

Daddy working late
Mom’s food on my plate
Mom will stay up to wait
She’ll be there to greet her soul mate
                                                       Day and night jobs
                                                       No regular 9 to 5
                                                       As long as we survive
                                                       Our children can strive.

                                                       Port Chester, New York
                                                       Moved to a town
                                                       Where we put rent down
                                                       Hope we don’t drown.
4 years old
A move so bold.
The winters were still cold,
But my dad’s taxi no longer gold.

Mom and Dad as a team
Working full steam
To achieve the American Dream
They believe to be supreme.
                                                      Mortgage down payment
                                                       A house with a basement.
                                                       All our money spent.
                                                       What an accomplishment!

                                                        Struggle to maintain
                                                       Tensions hard to contain
                                                       Money down the drain
                                                      With a house we can’t sustain…

Holding my note pad
Pen in my right hand,
Observing this Earth,
Learning since birth,

But what is my life worth?

When there are people in the world with little to no hope,
They have close to nothing; all they do is mope.
The world is nowhere near perfect
When parts of it are subjects to neglect;

They are forgotten
Thrown away as if they were rotten.
Ousted and Isolated
Hungry and Dehydrated.

People need to return to humanity
In a world filled with insanity,
Global Warming, Poverty, Hunger, and War,
the fighting, the gore.

The world needs to change
And to many people, change is rather strange,
But this change is a small price
That strengthens the heart and soul, it’s worth the sacrifice.

The world is far from perfection
It’s missing human affection…
Now answer this question?
What is my life worth?

Is it God’s greatest gift?
Only when we uplift.
Is it Earth’s greatest curse?
Only when we make matters worse.