Slam Poem: The Victim

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In December, 20 kindergartners were shot to death.
20 kindergartners.
20 little kids.
Hardly old enough to know how to hold there crayons,
Wrapping there chubby little fingers around it, gripping it till it Broke.

Hardly old enough to tie their own shoes.
Two bunny ears, cross over, pull through.

20 little boys and girls, crisscross applesauce,
Wide eyed and Ready to Soak up life.

Ready set go, on the playground,
Carefree until they fall down, but nothing that
a kiss and a band aid cant heal.

It seems to me people seem to
Have forgotten already
I see girls my age on the Internet
Holding flashcards “Feel sorry for me they say” I can’t bear it
But yet they have enough to strength to stand there
And share it.
And they say that death is the answer but
What about those 20 kindergartners?

They never got that choice, and they never felt sorry,
Now who is their voice?
Is it god?
Obama said God Bless us all
And god bless those kids,

But does god bless us all?
Does he bless the dad who throws his kids up against the walls?
Does he bless the one’s that lie and hate,
The ones that waste their life away,
Becoming ordinary
Because stupidity is the average these days?

Does god bless us all?
Who is he?
Where was he then?
It must have been god’s day off.

Now I’m not saying that we’re all this way but
I see too many people these days thinking
That their lives are hard.

And they say Yolo, or hell
This is high-school…
Too many people procrastinating trying to be different
But just the act of trying makes them the same,
They need to make a change.


Daddy please come home soon,
He’s overseas following orders,
Marching in line with 70,000 other soldiers

And all that little girl wants is
A normal life, a mommy and daddy by her side,
Giving her kisses goodnight

And America hasn’t changed one bit
While he was gone, everything’s
Still out of order, everything’s all wrong

And they said they would change us
But they’ve been doing anything but,
They’ve been chaining us,

Nothing’s changed more the seasons,
They’re making laws for no apparent reason,

They think they know more than us,
Ha! Don’t make me giggle like
Joe Biden behind the republican table is a joke.


That’s what America stands for now,
Right that’s all we need?
Hope to get a job,
Hope to earn some money,
But why hope when you can know?
Work hard and good things will follow,
And I don’t give a damn about hope,
The problem with America is there’s no more fight,
I’m preaching to a crowd,
And all they care about is there marijuana rights,
And how much they drank last night,

And I want to write a book
And I want to change the world,
But life can be so…hard.

But it could be harder and it
Could be worse
I could be dying of cancer or
I could be dying of thirst
I could be slitting my wrists,
Or I could be playing the victim.

But I am no victim
My parents worked too hard
To let myself drown,
And I was raised under a roof in
A’ big pretty house
Where my dad gave up everything for me and my sister,
And it’d be a lie if I said while mommy was gone
I didn’t miss her but
Better things came along and I finally found
Someone that I could call mom,
And she had no idea how to raise
Two little girls but looking back
On it now I know she changed my
Whole world so that I, would not be a victim.

You are the victim of my story
You’re just sitting there eating out of
The palms of my hands while I
Shove words and rhymes down
Your speechless throats and you could have
Gotten up a long time ago if you felt
The words I was saying should have
A whole different meaning
But like life I’ll let you up easy,
Because I Am not the victim.

I am the writer of this story
This one right here on this stage
And I might be disappointed in
Who I see in the mirror sometimes
But at least I am still here
And at least I am still me
And the only thing that
Can ever shoot me down
Is my own insecurity’s and my
Own thoughts.

And if you’re going to play the victim
In life well that’s the choice you choose

But I’m here to tell you that that is
One battle that you will always lose.

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