Poetry Corner: Beat The Odds

Inner city urban area,

The hood as a youth,

We take pride in that lifestyle living in the wild.

Proud of the ghetto crown,

Our red carpet is blood stained dope bag filled slabs of pavement,

Our minds imprisoned heads held down for way to long.

Who is to blame?

Just young naïve kids chasing fortune and fame,

Products of our environment,

Multiplied times 10 we’re a fatherless child.

No matter what I did I could never fail,

But I wanted more in the end than just a corpse who remained,

So I switched my hustle

Learned to struggle and beat the odds going way to strong.