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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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