Poverty, depression, and rejection are everyday ordeals, <br />no birds chirping, police sirens wake us up to breakfast meals, <br />by meals I mean bread, spoiled milk, and government cheese, <br />as you walk outside the gun powder smell is so strong it can bring you to your knees, <br />I've seen a man with his head blown off at a gas station, <br />friends dying over the gun bring often devastation, <br />some people read this from afar it really fathoms me, <br />but understand for most this is reality, <br />I was robbed at gun point at the age of twelve, <br />point blank range as I gazed just me and the gun shells, <br />government funding at an all time, <br />nobody hiring so I guess I'll just drink beers and get high, <br />police harass and put up no loitering signs everywhere, <br />I have no family, my friends are all I have so why cant we stand right here, <br />daddy's not home, and he is never coming back, <br />so I guess I'll join a gang, at least they will have my back, <br />mom is in the club almost every night, <br />then when she comes home drunk her and her boyfriend have their usual fight, <br />from the outside everyone looks at us like we are dirt poor, <br />all we need is people to believe in us a little more, <br />just remember while you are looking down on us it could have been you, <br />and we are actual people, the ghetto is not a Zoo..<br /><br />Jesse Pickens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untold-ghetto-stories/
