3400
Waking up hungry,
wondering what's the move.
Faces on the tv,
all so clear and smooth.
Acne across my face,
wondering when it'll end.
No clean clothes,
see if brother has some to lend.
Not happening,
too poor, too trapped in,
imagination,
no a hellish nation.
Where you wake up at night,
to the sounds of vibrations.
Guns, Pow pow,
bullets might pass over your head.
get down low,
or you're the next person's whose dead.
Parents struggling,
the stores you go to steal.
Feed your damned self,
so they can focus on bills.
Trying to be independent,
but that street life dependent.
Stealing and selling,
on the road to defendant.
You might end up jail,
but you can stand to fail.
Life is storming on you so hard,
you can call it hail.
Trying to make it out,
but they try to hold you back.
Kids in your class,
making fun of you and call you wack.
Not caring about circumstances,
few was on your side.
The holes you try to hide,
about the patches you lied.
Fights with dogs, cats,
and wolves outside.
Battling hunger and ostracization,
while going to class.
Trying to hide these feelings,
while feeling you're as see through as glass.
But what's next,
how long can you last?
What happens,
if the present finally meets the past.
Stealing you get caught up,
selling, you get robbed.
Found in a lake one day,
when your did bob.
Living everyday,
like you could meet your maker.
Too poor to be a giver,
let's call you a taker.
