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POEM OF THE MONTH, December 2006 |
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Written by Dasan Ahanu
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Friday, 01 December 2006 |
Crack Baby Serenade
Tomorrow was always further away than
The trail of one tear down his cheek
So when they said to reach for his future
He just retreated and cried
Water welled up inside
It was like his dreams were drowning in his eyes
They said hope floats
But he believed that happy endings only happened in movies
Hero isn't what your called when you're Sandra Bullock homely
So tell me what is he supposed to do
When life is just a lie that gets f'ed up even worse
What he's going through isn't just fit for anyone
It's mayhem on steroids
This sullen soul doesn't know the price of happy
But he knows they give sad free to the po, broke and lonely
And throw wished into the water to learn to swim
But it's different strokes for different folks
Can't breast stroke when your chest is sunken
Can't back stroke when it's weighed heavy
Butterflies are beautiful
But the last time he felt that way
Was when he was in his mother's arms at the hospital
Before social services took him away
Can't fly with undeveloped wings
Can't swim with inoperable limbs
He runs a butter knife across his wrists
As committed to suicide as this world is committed to his tomorrows
You tell a crack baby that is just mean a rose made it through the concrete
That making it in this world isn't as hard as it seems
That the title is just a premonition of his breakthrough
And white lies are purely sincere
But white rock put him here
Future taking it's last breathe in his tears
Momma may have, Poppa may have
But God bless the child with residue in his veins
Because he never asked to have his own, never asked for this foster home
Blue blooded family raising a white-blooded teen
In this distorted illusion of the American dream
He begs Death to come knock on his door
Come claim him, as he wanted his mother to do
Realizes that even if it was her, it would feel the same
He sitting in darkness
Arms holding the last bit of sanity he has left
He will no longer face blind judgment
Because justice can't see he is at the end of his rope
Societal norms picnicking at the sight of this strange fruit
Hanging from the tree of knowledge that this world doesn't love him
No foundation beneath him only a Neuse above him
Wool pulled over his eyes, but his dreams still tug him
Wishes he had a manuscript on how this spade could win freedom
Won't bid on trying with no books, only possibles
Big and little joker leaving him set as forgotten
Left behind in negative impressions
He didn't ask for it, now he asks for it to end
Picks up a pen…he wants to write his eulogy
Wonders if this is how his mother and father wrote his destiny
Only the ink never dried it flows in his veins
Never writes love stories, funny anecdotes, only pain
Wishes the tears would stop falling, sad words dancing in the rain
Leaving his journal stained
Believes he is so worthless that Death doesn't even know his name
He's in darkness
Holding on to the last bit of sanity he has left
His only wish is to die
But all he can do is cry
And all I can offer him...
Is this Crack Baby Serenade
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