Ghetto Poetry - Dravitoz

do dreams come true?
such vivid imaginations.
hanging on loose threads
of hopeless dreams.
life is hard.

barely 19, caught up in the
midst of fame and fortune.
hard to remember her roots,
living the life of ecstasy.
life is hard.

break of dawn, thoughts of
survival ring bells in his mind.
lonely venture into the big city streets.
every hour pushes the button of fate.
he goes by the name of "street kid"
life is hard.

in the pool of blood,
that is where she lay cold.
caught up in the love web.
victim of suicide.
life is hard.

the child at birth,
fifteen minutes too late.
dead silence. no cry.
early death at birth.
life is hard.

Bless me Father.

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