IM DA BADDEST 0F LC's blog: "My Life-From The Other Side? WTF"

I'm sorry ya'll..I'm just in a poetic mood today. The poem "Post It" was written by Nafeesa Monroe...here is one of my own. I didn't title it yet. It needs some SERIOUS editing..and it needs to be finished. Poetry isn’t that special something that can be written quickly and without much thought I mean sure Some red neck, country bum can come up with a FEW short lines for his prostituting girlfriend stating, “I love you Especially when you make me a sandwich Oh yeah, and take care of my 3 kids from em 3 other women†When it’s obvious that there is not much love At least not much love being shown in this home To his three kids Even if there was love being shown The red neck, country bum wouldn’t stay home on his lazy behind all day And spend that little bit of government money that they receive each month On drinking, you know, the booze Strip clubs, and more prostitutes When it comes to me, and my beliefs, I just cannot see why This red neck, country bum, doesn’t strive to provide for his girlfriend and most importantly his own 3 kids His girlfriend and I aren’t asking for much! Just to help out enough so that there is no need for her to work the corner of Main and Utica Universally known as the streets And in the words of the one and only Rene “Brewedsosweet†“The streets are filled with drugs and unnecessary killings†And killing is what this 20-year-old woman has seen And drugs is something that at one time she has had to redeem To pay the rent And speaking of rent, Rent is something she wouldn’t have to pay If she would have stayed home with mom and dad And accepted that local college scholarship But no, “Mom, Dad, I’m in love†But her parents and I have always questioned in the back of our minds “Can love pay bills and get you SOME kind of education?†But we made the dumbest mistake and said “she’s older, let her find out for herself†And two years later, After she had made the choice to put love above herself Engaged the day she turned 18 Married the day she turned 18 and 3 months Never got pregnant once, Well at least so far She can’t help but ask..? Or maybe I should say that we couldn’t help but ask? “How did I end up here?†Which to me, really wouldn’t make much sense explain And as I am telling her this, I get tired of dealing with such nonsense, I exclaim “Reread the poem one more time†As I say this, she stops, just like I was joking Questioning me in such a way, like asking, “What crack have you been smoking?†So this time I try to be clear Making sure that she knew my fear, For her But what else can I say? What will I be able to say? When she wakes up and asks me “What were I thinking on THAT day?†“The day when I moved out†Well, I won’t be sure what to say, but I will defiantly tell her that her family and me were in doubt Will she start to pout? Or will she cry? Will she think of the unthinkable thing, wanting to die? Or universally known as SUICIDE! Crashing down on a young woman’s dream, And if she ever asks me, I’ll respond with “This isn’t a nightmare, and this sure ain’t a dream! You can’t wake up now hunny,even if you scream.â€