Black Poetry : A Hustlah's Lament

[NittyGrit]

I fight alone against my thoughts
I’m wrestling nightmares & dreams
I sift through shattered emotions for some room at God’s feet

I stare at 4 lonely walls
That haunt me with the empty feeling
That God don’t answer my prayers. Why don’t the get past the ceiling?

If they make it to heaven
Why won’t He send me a blessing?
Instead he punishes me abundantly for not learning lessons

That He Tried to teach
My Grandma cried & preached
But I’m hard headed & embedded in my love for these streets

I feed off the concrete
My appetite is destruction
Call me a stone cold sinner ‘cause Mama I’m out here hustlin’

I came from nothing So I’m humble
I’ve been Humiliated for years
I was Baptized in the fire & christened by my mama’s tears

So aint nothing you can tell me
The story has been told
& I don’t need advice or sympathy just pray for my soul

 

[1poetsought]

PEACE Be with you.

I enjoy your work, hustler.

Prayers and blessings. :slingshot

 

[$$RICH$$]

word up......somehow dis reads like me upside down ....tyte drop

 

[j'hiah]

i can hear the music to this...
i can play this flow for a minute...

real talk.

 

[watzinaname]

You never know who else has a similar story to tell, but just can't word it nearly as well. May the soul have some ease.