Poetry, Self-Improvement

Long Way From Home

I’m working on my future, because I’m tired of eating noodles.

I could have been a shooter, but my mother kept me neutral.

I could have dealt with dope, but the struggle gave me hope.

Music let me cope with the troubles of being broke.

Sitting in the dark praying to God for just a break,

You told me I could be great, how much more I’ll have to take?

We skated on the line, but I’m giving props to my mom.

She made sure I was fed and kept me in her loving  arms.

Kept me in my books and sacrificed her dreams,

So I promised I’d make it worth it, no matter how hard it seems.

No matter the depression, no matter the friends I lost,

No matter the life I pass, and no matter the cost.

No excuse, every barrier I’ll break it loose.

Nothing is going to stop me until I uncover the truth.

I don’t do this for your respect, I do it because nothing’s left.

The struggle made the heart of a warrior in my chest.

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