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Infamous one Mar 2013
Like a bolt
Thoughts are like saving bonds
You eventually cash them
Get your way the proce is right
Come out even end up broke
Find out the ppl talking are a joke
They bully but can't fight mad at others
Turn out they can't act right
Words on fire burning passion
Melt them down to ash
Nothing left thats how they feel
Hate on you because you come real
Beat them at their foolish game
Don't get your way ain't that ashame
Prodige Dec 2013
I am an angel with
a broken wing.
Wishing to return to the
good times but knows
it's impossible.

An angel who has had her
halo taken from her.
And with that-
her spirit.

God has blessed me with
a gift.
A gift that I am to
never take for granted.
But with all gifts,
there's a proce to pay.

The price paid was
the endless nights
of waking up.
Never again to relax.

Never again able
to go out and have
a good time because
I am the backbone.
The structure.
The mother.
This poem was written from the perspective of Gloria Martinez. A struggling mother in the book, "The Bronx Masquerade".

— The End —