Poetry

Growing up in the worst streets of the nation’s poorest corners, aching out a living in a neighbourhood where poverty is the only thing each individual is got in common. Is like a wild life each soul has to fight for what is theirs. In this neighbourhood promise of tomorrow is never the promise. You got to settle for what you have today and cherish what you get tomorrow, but only live for the moment.

Like prisoners stuck in a world of injustice where reality is just unfair, take me back to a dream scene where I could survive for another day. Like a moving cloud above the mountings you could find my every tear drop like a rain fall.

Born in a world of gunshots and coming from a place where rich folks call it poor people zone, but it’s my home, all I have ever known, where I got grown. I learnt from the streets it can be bleak, expect the worst of nightmares. So we struggling, fighting to eat and wondering when we will be free. How does comfortable world question our ways of living?

All we got is life on the street it’s not what we want, but we ain’t got anywhere else to run to and the boys from the hood are raised up hardcore. I was born and raised in poverty but I still smile, out of the darkness I came the farthest amongst the hardest survival. Heaven is there a chance that you could come down and open doors for hurting people like me?

“I am not positive because I had positive experiences, I am positive because I CHOSE to make positive out of negative.”