Poem

No one wants to hear me.
No one wants to see my tears
when I cry
in vain, calling for
help.

You do your best
trying to stay alive
in this horrible world
where there is violence and crack bottles every step you take.

When I pray to God at night,
I say to him,
"I'm ready to go.
I'm ready for you to take
my soul."

And yet, I wake up each morning and realize I'm still here.
That's how I know that
I am in this world
to complete something.

Something that's taking too long.
As each day goes by,
I realize
it's my destiny,
but what?

I can't act like myself
in the streets
because I have to keep it real.
What the hell does that mean?
My definition of keeping it real is getting a college diploma, taking care of my family and being a leader for tomorrow.

But still,

No one wants to hear me.
No one wants to see my tears
when I cry
in vain, calling for
help.

This world has buried my thoughts
and feelings
deep into the earth's core.
I can only keep it
to myself.

They say you have freedom of speech, but that is all bullshit.
Once you start to speak out
they kill you or act like
they don't know anything.

They have enslaved,
whipped and killed my ancestors for years.

They try to perish my history
by giving me the wrong lessons
and saying that
we are all equal.
Yeah, right.

I'm calling for help
and hope
that's something
this world hasn't
forgotten.

"Why
can't
I
be
heard?

Why?"