now poems, and writings are a way of getting whats on your mind out. for example heres a poem that could be about you reading this or someone you know or maybe youve heard of someone who could relate to this the truth is you never know so just read this and let me know what it means to you....

LIFE- writen by MARCUS ANDREW - COPYWRITED 1999-2005

Young teen girl moving from home from home

Trying to fit in but she’s all alone

Sitting in a quite room, listing to the sound of her heart beat,

Thinking about her dad who bailed on her,

Her mom trying to get back on her feet,

And keep it together,

And the teen girl is trying so hard,

To stay away from the bad things,

The pressure of all this, and drama that her life brings,

She doesn’t want grow up and be, what she is any more,

Robbing from all local stores

Trying to get by, living out on the streets, on park benches, living out of bags,

Remembers her old life, with her mom and dad, and all of the things she used to have

Remembers, her brothers and sister, doesn’t know if they are alive or dead,

It has been 10years, and the tears they still shed.

The blood stains, the sharp pain, the cuts, the scars, the prison bars, the stolen cars

Everyday is a matter of life and death, trying to hold on to every breath

Broken bones, sticks and stones, trying figure out why she so young trying to act grown

It doesn’t have to be this way; she tries to fix it, saying things like tomorrows a different day. Depression running her mind, crying all the time and she don’t know why.

It’s sick, it’s twisted, its shame that she is throwing all her talent away, she’s gifted.

She could, sing any song note for note,

Her voice would simply stun you,

She was a writer by heart, but she thought it wasn’t true.

She could dance like something from a dream, like something I have never seen.

But where is she now, standing out in the cold, selling herself for sex,

She is only 15 years old. I tried and tried to get her help, she pushed me away

Wanted to be by herself.  And I think by now it is time for a change,

It’s gone on too long; it’s still the same,

With all the doped up mothers, and drunken fathers

Homes with no rules for the son or daughter,

And you got step brothers, or sisters

With a step mom, or dad, trying to give a home that they never had

 Are we helping the problem?

Are we adding to it?

It’s can’t be us must be them

Well I can’t believe this.

Come somebody tell me this ain’t real, just think as if this story is about you,

How you would feel?

 

 

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