Dumpster Diving: Before I Could Live, I Died
Head first
.
.
.
With minimal force, a tearless task
Becomes a criminal's course; umbilical cord still intact
Feeling the void these piercing acts are apart of a loose system
Where foolishness is the juice in producing confused victims
Miscontruing views killed them, so some are escaping trust
Cuz our week old bodies trashed, is better than raising us
Now our fate is hushed, an artform where our part is breached
Where jargon speech is prevalant in this ghetto's heartless streets
A startled me, I harbor the shame. . .apart of the blame
Unseemingly cold in this filth, and Mom ain't bother with names
A toddler in pain who's arguably, logically fixed on dying
When the probability of Dads, is a lottery pick of clients
Plausibly tricked in trying, the withering terms of living
Are bitter and burned and I could've beens just weren't a given
And it hurts to mention your reasons, and it's harder to die
When you know your Mother gave up, before she bothered to try
Would holler, but why? Was forced into avoiding the world
And poisoned. . . .not knowing if I'm a boy or a girl
Destroying MY world and you were so quick to walk off
Abandoned, hours old, half wrapped in a washcloth
So lost and caught in the mindset that you'll return eventually
Knowing our first interaction was when you turned against me
I burned intensely, unwanted, and only the foolish helps
Never given a chance, but to dive in a pool of death
And who, except, my mother, she's supplying the home. .
In heaven. She wouldn't let me die on my own
Head first,
.
.
.
With minimal force, her tearless task,
Was a criminals course and my umbilical cord is STILL intact
Revealing the choice of most, so crooked in vengance
When the sane had enough, and are pushed to their limits
Just look at the image, and our eyes are filling with tears
It's not the people, our economy's been a killer for years!
Been attentive for YEARS, and only a portion's defensive
When adoption is paper work, and abortion's exspensive
And over its course, it's intensive, yet sacred and vital
The power of life, is knowing, every way of survival
Yet for some. . their first breath was the will of deception
Cuz there's always guilt present. . .in the gift of conception
-Nique
Forewarning: this piece contains a mystery flow, so don't be surprised if you can't catch it. I had to remind myself a couple times how I wrote it, lol.
