Poverty of Families
All they ever think about is how to survive their struggle,
They best be laborin', livin' on with their hustle.
Best be workin' overtime, best be feeding my child,
Best to hand it to the government, than acting all wild.
That's because that's how things work around here,
You have to follow the system cause' you're one useless gear.
But truth be told you just followin' your peers,
to the depths of anger, sadness, and despair.
You don't speak for yourself, so you just play follow the leader,
You just follow blindly and you ain't makin' money either.
Plus your daughter's hungry, who the hell is gon' feed her?
and then you left her for nothing, "Daddy I need ya! "
"Where are you daddy? When I need you the most?
You were there when life's good now you're gone like a ghost"
They had everything before and they so proud that they boast,
But then daddy lost his job, and that's what hurts the most.
So, mommy left daddy and daddy left me,
Then daddy came back and said that he's got me,
But all that sweety talk was gone and now he's doin' bad deeds,
Cause daddy is hustlin' now sellin' crack rocks and weed.
But he said it's for the better, life before is coming back now,
And daddy's makin' lot of money, but gettin' close with bad crowds,
I'm worried for daddy, cause he got death threats now,
But it all ended with the worst of all sounds.
4 gunshots to his body and 2 in his head,
They really made sure that my daddy's is dead,
But daddy really is, and now I'm really sad.
"Take care of yourself, honey." were the last words he said.
Now I'm cryin' an' cryin' and I feel like I'm dyin'.
I want to kill myself now but I don't feel like tryin'.
A mysterious force is pulling me to my goals,
The path of vengeance, to kill all my father's foes.
But then I talked to the man, that my dad talked to the most,
I talked to God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost.
I found it easy to talked to them, the line wasn't closed,
He taught me to live rather than go with the flow.
Soon I graduated college with the help of my father's money,
The money he earned while he still had a decent job,
I used to think we were broke then but the story is quite funny,
While he was working with high pay, he wasn't a slob.
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poem by Anthony Yaman D. Cabal
Added by Poetry Lover
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