Remembering Tough Times


I remember when I was five when my mom had to work two jobs,
to keep us all alive.
It was so hard living my life as a kid,
it was a gift just to get a little bit.
If you live in the ghetto you know what I mean,
for it's no fun being afraid of everything.
It was hard living my life not knowing the next time,
the next time we got a meal because nobody took the time to realize,
we were hungry.
By the time my mom got home from work,
we were already in our nightshirts.
Don't think we weren't loved because of all this,
my mom tried to do her very best.
My step-dad would get mad, scream,
and throw things when nothing went his way;
then he would leave and not come back for a couple of days.
After a while he started to get worse,
he even stole my mom's purse just to smoke some dope.
I remember him doing it in front of me,
not knowing what it really means.
My mom got mad when she found all of this out,
so we packed our stuff and got out.
Please don't think this is the end of my life,
for the next time I saw my step-dad it was in front of a jury!

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