Talib Williams
Stories (1/0)
Broken
Broke...The type of broke that can't be fixed by Cast...Cast in Class and asking...basking in the thought that "the first is last"...bursting past and crash through glass...curtains cast on the thought that we all sprout from worthless past...worthless ash, from cigarettes and blunts...streets paved with broken glass...but ain't no yellow brick roads in "the hood," sidewalks consist of broken slabs...broken paths but, somehow the dreams awoken fast...we can only hope to see our dreams come true before our tokens cashed...but more often than not, our tokens cast...to the side and we're left to decided whether to continue to hope...or crash...in Americas Favelas where little children choke and gasp...to survive to Jr. High Jr's high and he hopes to pass..."do you need help?" The one question he hopes they ask...but they don't...now he's off to selling joints and bags, to buy some new shoes cause all they do is point and laugh...they say "you point one finger you got at least three pointing back...he bought a Strap...now they the ones he's pointing at...but it ain't no pointing back..."hands up don't shoot" they know it ain't no point in that...but they tried it anyway, till he points the joint and blast...tragic story, but it's the story of a good kid gone bad...
By Talib Williams7 years ago in Poets