A New Man #MindOverMatterContest
- LECTURAS 29
- Votos 1
- Partes 1
Concluida vie, ago 11, 2017<5 mins
I am at time period where I am mentally stressed more stress than I ever been. I am 27 and yet I still feel like a child afraid to grow up.
Won't lie sometimes I have thoughts of becoming a drug dealer to make fast money to subude my struggles. Sometimes I pray to God and sometimes I do feel like he answers my prays but sometimes I do believe he allows the devil to destroy me.
Sometimes I contemplate rather or not if I should cheat life and just either sell drugs or rob a liquor store or bank but the two things I fear most in this world is God and Hell so I no matter how hard I think about go to darkness Always choose the ways of the lord to keep me on the right path. I choose to have faith and this poem demonstrates how I really feel.
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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