A Wish and a Prayer
My Mama never cleans the house;
she lets the dirt pile high.
The cockroaches and other bugs
are always crawling by.
The refrigerator is empty
and the bread is hard as stone,
and sometimes when I’m hungry
I can hear my belly groan.
Still Mama says that tomorrow
she will clean and cook, but you see,
I know that’s just another lie
cause she always lies to me.
She spends her check on something
that this friend of hers calls crack,
and when she’s high, she swears at me
and hits me in the back.
Her fists are hard, but her words hurt more
cause I’m just a little kid,
who wishes she’d get better
and do the things that we once did,
like taking walks on Sundays,
or going to the ice cream store,
or visiting with Grandma,
but we don’t do those no more.
When I grow up and have a kid
I won’t do things like drugs.
I’ll get a job and hug my child,
and our house will not have bugs!
But until that time I’ll say my prayers
and hope that God hears me,
cause I know that he must understand
this thing called poverty…
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