I was born a wild child <br />a navigators son <br />from the slums I took my chances <br />and was always on the run <br />fought my way with others like me <br />and society who blamed <br />my behaviour on my parents <br />and misfortune on my name <br /> <br />I bled for my existence <br />and stole to feed my need <br />I would put on many faces <br />to extrapolate my breed <br />to defend the others round me <br />and provide some hopeful care <br />to the familys with broken hearts <br />and dreams that went nowhere <br /> <br />In the darkness of a thousand scars <br />that tore away my flesh <br />my hands would reach into <br />the soul and bones of what I'm worth <br />and though the sun was shining <br />trying to brighten up the day <br />in the poverty of mouths to feed <br />the slums are always grey <br /> <br />In a history of violence <br />and the screams that no-one heard <br />in a mothers tears and fathers fears <br />I learned every word <br />and paraded with a vengeance <br />on the streets of cobblestones <br />that my heart was independant <br />and I didn't stand alone.<br /><br />Charles M. Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-didn-t-stand-alone/
