by

P O ET

I grew up surronded

by concrete

and on my street

we'd eat pain

as a feast

we buried our friends

in detention centers

and loss track of our

dreams altogether

but,

My first glimpse of hope

was a rope

made of dreams

that I weaved

from learning to beleive

in my heart

it's kinda funny;

that was my true start

my true awakekning to the art

of poetry and prose

and in seeking evolvement

I arose

to new levels of inner peace

so,

now when time creeps

I pound out sheets

sheets

complete

with stories of

my ....

streets,

sweets,

heats

beats

feats

until I reach mountain peaks

WORDS;

today

that could make all that concrete

just

float

away ...