Invisible Child

Born & raised in a neighborhood of slums & poverty...
I obviously, grew toward the roots of drugs & robbery.
No love, no harmony. My whole world was at this awkward rhythm.
Kids learned life was uncontrollable & I was gullible with em.
My brother was hard, he protected me when we slept under the stars.
With cement as a mattress, I wake up covered in scars.
In winter wed slumber in cars, one as the others pillow.
I remember we used to write poetry on the foggy windows.
On weekdays I hustled the block, both hands on my grind.
I promised myself Id make a fortune, even one gram at'a time.
Im proud of whats succeeded. My pride, I cuddle.
Marijuana doubles my happiness & divides my struggle.
During my quietest nights, I started to question the purpose of life.
The streets were cold & books only gave me worthless advice.
My citizen’s rights, must have got stuck in the birth canal.
& It hurts some how, knowing if my folks was rich Id be perfect now.
I was thinking bigger now, there must be millions like me.
Years back Bush promised to help, but thats still not likely.
I grew older & wiser. Even passed the GED.
Got a job & apartment & bought my first color TV.
Yet still in this phase, found its hard to pay bills underage.
I was the typical full time student, living off of minimum wage.
But its not a secret, working at McDonald’s didn’t cop the bucks.
While we hosted the monopoly game, I stole stickers off the cups.
Someone told my boss what’s up, I was lucky he didn’t press charges.
Slept on an empty stomach, but at least there was less garbage.
I was only weeks away from becoming a legal adult.
Held a gun to her head, & said I was there to steal the vault.
Now in prison for a while, thinking life is just a criminal’s mile.
Would I still end up this way, if I wasn’t born an invisible child.