This poem was created by a young brother who happened to become my cell mate. I immediately noticed his talent, but his focus and vision was unpolished. After some meaningful conversations between us, he handed me this jewel. I would love to share it with the Kingdom. This young Prince goes by the name of Quala T…
It’s a cold world that we are living in, brothers killing brothers over dividends.
Our sistah’s being robbed of their innocence
and we are the ones to blame, but we act like we’re innocent.
We are supposed to be leaders, but we are followers
because we done let the street devour us.
I guess it’s all over for the Black man
and I can’t take that back. It’s reality, the facts stand…
All we know is robbery and homicide
and homie, you ain’t real if you ain’t down to ride.
Don’t we realize we’re making mama tired?
Take a look in her eyes, can’t you tell that she’s no longer inspired?
Mama, I apologize for everything, but I was hooked on fast cash and Mary Jane
and other supplements that I won’t dare to blame.
I know my father’s disappointed on the fact that I bear his name.
And we’re supposed to be our brother’s keeper…
Instead of dragging them out the water, we just pull them deeper.
Yet, we walk around like we are righteous;
pay attention to my words, common sense is priceless.
We fall victim to our circumstance, fail to use our minds
then wonder why they say we don’t deserve a chance.
They locked us up and threw away the key;
mentally, physically and emotionally they made us weak.
– Quala T