Black Girl Found

Was never a rich kid
lowest on the totem pole
never had the light up sneakers
ma told me be thankful
mine didn’t have holes
far from being spoiled
I came from humble beginnings
A place where liquor stole souls
and even saints were sinning
where bars on your windows
were your main source of protection
and young men lost their lives
when they lost their direction
where niggas weren’t fathers
and children grew up quick
and the pollution in the water
made everyone sick

Who cares about a ghetto child
who could ever love me
who would care enough for my struggle
to save me from misery?


When I was seven years old
my grandmother passed
My father was her only child
so she gave her first born her last
no longer a child of the ghetto
we had moved on up
but money was still tight
we were still feeling stuck
People see your home
and think they know what lies within
but if I asked you to write my story
you wouldn’t be able to hold my pen
There were times in the winter
where we used our oven for heat
but no one knew how we lived
our house is the nicest on the street
cuz all that matters is appearance
and the front we put on
you may think you know the lyrics
but I haven’t finished my song

Who cares about the middle class
who are poorer than you know
who would care for my struggles
if I never let them show?

I used to cry for the child
for the person that I was
but I picked myself up
and I’m trying to do better because
the next generation
Any children I’ll conceive
will look to me for strength
someone positive to believe
I still struggle day to day
sometimes I feel the odds
aren’t in my favor
but the sweet taste of success
is something I long to savor
so don’t cry for me
or the struggles I’ve been through
cuz I’m the competition
and I aim to surpass you.

Don’t cry for me
my story isn’t through
I’m a success in the making
Maybe I should cry for you….


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