This poem...

This poem...

This poem right here...

This poem right here was written for the children who never thought of writing

For those like me who had to grow up fighting.

Sometimes frightened to walk a few blocks in your own city.

This poem will get you home.

This poem be smooth like butter on your biscuits.

This is for the misfits

Rich kids

Poor kids

Police-kicking-in-your-door kids

Won't-see-daddy-no-more kids

Kids on the honor roll

trying to stay honorable

They've been taught what's right so they fight to honor those

And I wrote to honor those

To let you know you're not alone

So, in actuality this poem its not a poem

It's a hand

It's an ear

It's a a shoulder

It's a blanket when the world feels cold

An umbrella against all of life's rain

Emotional medicine for all your pain

This poem...

This poem right here...

This poem right here is for you.