It's Why I Write

never recieving the real credit deserved

my pen moves so much these meta carpals are at a curve

I blow a dutch for my nerves

mama pardon those words

but this is all for a cause

weary of these poverty walls

the holes in my drawers

them days at the shelter

so reminiscent

the struggle and evictions

dwelling in the one room wood shack knocking the termites off the wall

as we stood back

pops worked his fingers to the bones

sharing the water hose from Ms. Johnson's home

watching the rodents roam

my toes were the tongue to my shoes

ridiculously overused

the school house laughs and mental abuse

the shame and insults that came with my name

blowing our nose on our clothes

flushing the toilet with with buckets

fighting amongst each other

daily ruckus

might not had the best of times but through it all love and prayer kept us together

just fine