I am from

I am from a crooked street,
with bullets at our feet.


I am from the absent parents,

and mouths to feed.


I am from faded people,
with fake smiles.


I am from a complicated family,

of skin and bones.


I am from pain,

as the whip strikes my spine.


I am from a family that starves,
yet feeds the ones on the street.


I am from the fortunate and
unfortunant;
fortunate for a place to sleep and
the will to perservier.


I am from the cigerete burns,
and lifelong scars.

 

I am from a rarity.

A type of uniqueness that's
un-relatable.


I am unimaginable.






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