Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Time For Me


When will it be my time,

to tell them my story?

When will they see my rhyme,

makes sense to my gore.

How can they judge me now, here on the street,

They make assumptions about my life.

I wish they could just read my mind,

Explanations are easier that way, sometimes

words just don’t come out right.

I could write them my response

can they read my writing?

Call me crazy, but I know

they just won’t get it now.

Who killed this body,

The gun shot through the leg,

Broken shoulder and ribs, blood on

The cold face, who killed me?

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