Have you ever wanted to spread your wings and forget about the world
like really spread your arms and feel the deserving air, reach into your lungs and grab your verry existence
and yell into your ears, pound on your chest and rush like water falls to the edge of all your bounderies
Push up off the concrete floors that have set you in your path of delusion and snip off all of gravitys little tricks
so you can finally smile forever so you can finally smile forever....
I knew a girl who once did, she would breath in second hand smoke and stutter her way through school with no real heroes except for
her cousin she drew on the only purple note book she had, and everyday would be a new reminder of somthing she never had,
Parents that cared for her....
While daddy was out selling crack..
Mommy would whore her body out for nickel bags of pot, with out any hesitation for the goodness of humanity as
the whole torment of stranger danger consumed little pats life,
she dreamed of snuggling with a big stuffed teddy bear
that smelled like strawberries insdead of an ugly pillow that smelled like and ashtrey
She dreamed of holding hands with compassion instead of being pushed away by hands that were never washed
her mind was a house filled with crack pipes and heroin nightmares, her heart beat was like a record on repeat
as needle skipped from father to mother to stranger to her only brother.
Though her voice was not strong, her heart matched towards the want of a better life, cut away from the cocaine nose
jobs of parental guidence that put shame into the eqaution by entering her memories forver, like an addictive itch she
cant scratch, as if to never go away from the emptiness of a refridgerater, or the dry thirst that was provided everyday,
She watches in slow motion like time being disected by God, her family being ripped apart by drugs, and her cries get stronger,
till ther is no stutter left in her vocal chords to hook onto rehabilitation by her eyes, she has seen more hurt in her 10 years
of living than I will ever, and she mutters softly spoken sentences to me that only come from 30 year old wemon.
I dont want to be alive she says!
If life is this hard, shoot me dead, shoot me up, leave me for dead!
and as My head turns away, I see somthing like ghosts , startling my presence.
She is gone but not forgotten, my little cousin of only 10.
Written By Adam Guerra
Push up off the concrete floors that have set you in your path of delusion and snip off all of gravitys little tricks
so you can finally smile forever so you can finally smile forever....
I knew a girl who once did, she would breath in second hand smoke and stutter her way through school with no real heroes except for
her cousin she drew on the only purple note book she had, and everyday would be a new reminder of somthing she never had,
Parents that cared for her....
While daddy was out selling crack..
Mommy would whore her body out for nickel bags of pot, with out any hesitation for the goodness of humanity as
the whole torment of stranger danger consumed little pats life,
she dreamed of snuggling with a big stuffed teddy bear
that smelled like strawberries insdead of an ugly pillow that smelled like and ashtrey
She dreamed of holding hands with compassion instead of being pushed away by hands that were never washed
her mind was a house filled with crack pipes and heroin nightmares, her heart beat was like a record on repeat
as needle skipped from father to mother to stranger to her only brother.
Though her voice was not strong, her heart matched towards the want of a better life, cut away from the cocaine nose
jobs of parental guidence that put shame into the eqaution by entering her memories forver, like an addictive itch she
cant scratch, as if to never go away from the emptiness of a refridgerater, or the dry thirst that was provided everyday,
She watches in slow motion like time being disected by God, her family being ripped apart by drugs, and her cries get stronger,
till ther is no stutter left in her vocal chords to hook onto rehabilitation by her eyes, she has seen more hurt in her 10 years
of living than I will ever, and she mutters softly spoken sentences to me that only come from 30 year old wemon.
I dont want to be alive she says!
If life is this hard, shoot me dead, shoot me up, leave me for dead!
and as My head turns away, I see somthing like ghosts , startling my presence.
She is gone but not forgotten, my little cousin of only 10.
Written By Adam Guerra
Posted on 08/12/12