No More
No nylon nets
on the basketball rims
No evening street lights
as the day grows dim
More bad news
when I hit the front door
More funeral flowers
for the cemetery garden dirt floor
No new neighbors
for the abandoned houses on the block
No famine on drugs
that feed the cross addicted flock
More tear trails
leading to the school courtyard
More children missing,
ghetto pain is raining down hard
Mama says with a gentle sob,
her heart’s so sore, it can’t take no more
Papa sighs, gives her a tender embrace,
life ain’t a pretty picture when you’re colored poor
I don’t wanna see my mama crying
no more
I don’t wanna hear my papa sighing
no more
I don’t wanna taste my parents’ fears
no more
To the Blessed, I have just one request ...
please give this poor teenaged soul
a whole lot less grief and stress
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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