I live in a prison
Thats what I call my home...
I wrote this poem for my Philosophy of Education...
To be a successful teacher...
A boy who couldn't love,
A girl who wouldn't feel...
Written wen i was 17;
I'm starting to realize...
With venomous lies,
Under rosemary skies...
With your hand
reach out and...
Who We Are
Black or white, religion or race...
We worship the rich; while forgetting those who...
Bow down to unjust rulers, who call on even more...
Childhood experiences that leave your heart black
somehow consumed by what you lack...
He... standing by the corner,, deranged in red...
she... staring at the stars,, frozen in death's...
The memories that haunt me are those of my own...
All of us feel like dead ends
for the lies just keep slipping...