Night After Nightby a young man, age 15
I remember those hard-ass nights when
my mom’s coming in after a couple’s night.
I be already in bed but that don’t mean
that she should leave. Does she think that
makes everything right. Just a shorty, only
12-years-old, never knew how to cook so I
never touched the stove. Always had hand-me-downs.
I couldn’t afford no clothes. Sometimes mom
thought about it and start crying all alone.
So I vowed one day that struggle
would soon be over. I got older and smarter,
grew away from my father. All he seemed to
do was make my life harder. Started
running with people, and my heart it
got darker. They helped me turn heartless.
I remember we was savages, we never
cared about right or wrong, man, screw a consequence,
living life at a fast place like an action flick
but like everything, it’s all gonna come to
an end. You could end up dead, getting shot, right on
the block, or maybe behind bars for selling
drugs to a cop. I often wonder when my
generation gonna stop, but I be a hypocrite.
If I said it’s easy to stop, only thing that comes
to mind, “Keep your head up shorty.” I know it
can be hard but we all go through it,
but it’s time for change. You can’t always be
ruthless, going down the wrong road, you really
gonna go through it.