I’ve been writing poems since the 8th grade and never did I think they would blow up like the World Trade.
They told me that I wouldn’t be anything, now I’m about to graduate from college.
I used to sit in my room and pray to the Lord that he would take away the thunder.
See, my mother used to tell me that she was sorry for not being a mother.
And she explained that when my father died why she had to give me to his mother.
I’m telling you coming up on the south side was crazy.
I had to keep it real while being a lady. We used to wear Timberlands in the Winter but food stamp money was how we ate our dinners. We never complained because we didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
I ate my fill at my aunt’s house. She was a lady but if anything happened out of the ordinary on the block she was ready to pop.
No apologies for the life I lived. I used to write 4 page letters to the dead as a kid to ease the pain because everybody has to die, it’s just part of the game.
We had the red and white house on the block and when people walked past our house they couldn’t help but to stop. They opened up our gate and said, “Hello you got a pretty house for it to be in the ghetto.”
I tell them I am the anointed child because I’ve been through a lot. So I keep a smile on my face and ask that people don’t ever judge me.
This house loves me and I grew up in it and stood on those bus stops every single day. Coming up my mother told me to look both ways and if you see some strangers stay out of their way.
I’m Coming Up!