April 9, 2012
By Pramsay SILVER, Madeira, Ohio
Pramsay SILVER, Madeira, Ohio
8 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Life is a lot different when
Walls are bare and floors are empty
Dust accumulates in unwanted areas

In a home with hardly any furniture
It’s dark where you are sitting
The only thing shining is the street lamp out front

Mother tries so hard for her kids
Scraping crumbs off the table so they don’t go hungry
Doing all she can to pay the bills
So there’s no trouble with child services

A store with florescent lights
Plastic bags ripping while you’re running
Learning to steal at a young age

This poverty causes corruption of the heart
All because of greed under suits and ties
So they react by starting a war
The red and blue sirens echoing
And a pounding upon the door

Intensity of character decreases with wealth
Two types of fathers exist here
The ones who imposes rejection on you
And those who use cruelty of the fist to release rage

Now you hate him for passing on his rage
A circle of violence, neverending
Young, bloody and bruised – alone
Rain battering, plummeting to your shoulders
Where’s the roof over your head?

All you hear is met with apathy
A blank stare on your face
No tears in your eyes, no twinkle

And here’s a gang of brothers offering you a place
They focus your hatred
A loyalty like no other, connections stronger than blood
No matter how much is spilt

And they want control, so they get guns and drugs
When an ember of a white powder is your only pleasure,
What has this world come to?

Then they give you a piece of steel and say
Murder anyone who gets in your way
…Cruelty toward people just as shown to you

A factory for felons and prostitutes
That miniskirt was once an innocent girl who played with dolls

Then, suddenly, A loud pop and shattered glass
You body lies motionless at 26
But the killing continues…

The author's comments:
I was originally from an area like this, but in my early childhood I moved to the suburbs. Now, almost all of my friend's live in an area similar to what I was describing (they were my inspiration). This poem was written to help people better understand what it's like to live like this, and to get people to try to do something about it.

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