for my people | Teen Ink

for my people

December 12, 2014
By Anonymous

for my people
For my people who grew up without a father left behind forgotten those made to feel like it was their fault he left except for Mom’s constant reminders that he was a drug addict a gambler and a liar
For my people my older siblings who had to sacrifice an education a childhood to raise their baby sisters and brothers for a mom too lazy too unmotivated to work.
For my people who were raped at a young age six years old too small to fight back deflowered in such a way that the shadow darkens every relationship.
For my people who are boy crazy who spend their life craving attention from the wrong crowd desperate for a man to replace Daddy.
For my people who are bullied so badly that cutting and suicidal thoughts appear as solutions rather than symptoms.
For my people who are cheated on whose trust has been shatter who have given someone everything only to walk down their high school hallway to see that person kissing on some other girl with cheap perfume and a unibrow.
For my people who are put on probation because they whoop the crap out of the girl who thought she was smart to mess with a chola’s vato.
For my people who find themselves in a relationship with a man who beats on them for just walking wrong talking wrong and even looking wrong who pushes them kicks them and punches them telling them  they’re “not into you” while threatening to kill your family if you leave them.
For my people who are abused daily by their mom dad brother in many forms like verbally when they’re called unimportant worthless an embarrassment who are too emotionally scarred to move or stand their ground because they’re afraid of the blows to the face the door slammed on their foot.
For my people approaching legal adulthood but everyday face some type of obstacle crying every night since January who have to force themselves out of bed to drag themselves to school where they have no motivation because they were never pushed or had someone to care about their grades listening to screaming crying and anger and cops coming up the hill every other day and in the end get to watch daddy being dragged back to jail twenty three years and he still never learned.


The author's comments:

this poem is completly none fiction and is very special to me and im proud of who i am


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