Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2017
Poverty levels are miles above me.
Haven't eaten for days,
but the child's tummy is happy.
That's all that really matters, right?

Stolen vehicles and slinging to get by,
selling myself and losing my mind
an inch at a time.
But, I'm clean in too many ways.

Greed and snapping jaws trained at me.
Every angle of escape blocked,
this is my Destiny.
I chose the wrong hearts to trust.

I gave a mile.
I lost it all.
Though I want to give up,
I just can't afford to blow.

I'll feign strength and plastered
     happiness.
Block it all like I've done in the past.
One day I'll be blessed with death,
and I'll rejoice in the simple
     emptiness.
B Chapman
Written by
B Chapman  30/F/Memphis
(30/F/Memphis)   
  470
     Henry, ---, ---, --- and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems