Teen Poetry Collections

STREET PREACHING

 By a young man in juvenile detention, age 16


Thank you for what you gave me
but all of it couldn’t save me
The money kept me alive
but the dope couldn’t help people survive
Pregnant woman itching in her palms
not ready to be a mom
She asked him for another rock
before the clock stops
No matter the age
anybody can get it,
what I gave him
Got him on his way to prison
I could care less
But sitting with him that night
got me thinkin,
if I woulda never sold it to him
would he have another reason?
It’s not my fault
When I heard what happened that night
I was appalled
When I heard how much time,
I wasn’t broken
but I finally realized
that I was awoken
The real preachers in the house
with stained glass windows
and not in a trap
with ceilings with holes in it
and not a man handing me a sack
with dope in it
Trees stay in the ground
and not in a bag
Rocks are in creeks
not handed out
and sold in the streets
Beef is cooked in the kitchen
not handled with heat
but that’s not what they told me