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Andrew Greening Poem
Death,
So misunderstood,
So misjudged,
It’s a final rest to all chaos,
It’s a backdoor to a final escape.
Death,
It’s got kind of a peaceful sound to it,
A way to leave all of the hectic incarcerations of life behind you,
No one really knows what lies beyond when you close your eyes for the last time,
But it can’t be worse than being taken away from everything you know and love.
Death,
I imagine it’s completely black,
No more thoughts to pain you,
No more people thinking you’re a complete failure,
No more pain,
No more hurt,
No more.
Just complete relaxation.
Death,
Kind of scary to think about at first,
But when you start to think,
I mean really think about putting the cold barrel of the gun to your fevered temple,
And slowly squeezing the trigger to allow you to fall into eternal slumber,
You get kind of a blissful calm feeling.
Death,
It always helps to know I have an escape,
A way to leave the living and move on to be with the dead,
A way to stop all the judgments,
A way to let go of all responsibilities forever,
Or maybe just a way to finally be happy,
Death,
It just sounds so… nice.
,Andrew Greening
Copyright © Andrew Greening | Year Posted 2016
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Andrew Greening Poem
This is my city.
Where fathers die,
And mothers cry,
Where brothers sell drugs and get locked up,
Where sisters are 15 and get knocked up,
This is my city.
Where the high schools got shut down because of guns and smugglers,
Where the streets are filled with nothing but pimps and hustlers,
Where young males get shot,
And are framed for something they're not,
Left in the past to rot, and soon be forgot,
This is my city.
Where people overdose daily and pile up dead,
Where you look into a child's face and see nothing but dread,
Where their stomachs are hungry because they have not been fed,
These children are starving have no home no bed,
This is my city.
Where people are glad to finally move out,
But they're still stuck here I know with no doubt,
They're stuck in this city forever like you,
Now you're probably saying hold up wait this isn't true,
So listen I'm telling you something that's not really new,
This is not my city.
This is reality.
This is our World.
,Andrew Greening
Copyright © Andrew Greening | Year Posted 2016
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Andrew Greening Poem
Slightly
High but
Broken from the
Inside, slowly drowning. Please
Help me learn to swim.
,Andrew Greening
Copyright © Andrew Greening | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Andrew Greening Poem
We are all victims.
Victims of shame, Victims of grief,
Victims of poverty, Victims of death, Victims of disease,
Victims of abuse and neglect, Victims of regret.
Some of us have it harder than others,
Bullets flyin', Family's cryin', Homboys dyin',
You say your workin' hard but you're not really tryin',
You say it's because of the struggle but I'm not Buyin'.
We're all victims.
It's part of the system but you got to push harder,
you must endure through the pain that we all maintain physically or mentally till it's scarring your brain.
Because we're all victims.
But that's no excuse to lose yourself in who you really are,
You must stand out till people see you shine bright from afar,
You must overcome the overcome-able, lose yourself in your passion, put yoursel into action,
You must become the hustle,
Overcome the struggle,
And the next time you fall down pick yourself back up do not just lay on the ground,
Because when the pressure comes it comes full blow,
And this is your one opportunity to take it and grow,
Now wherever you go take this, remember and know,
But do not allow yourself to fall victim.
,Andrew Greening
Copyright © Andrew Greening | Year Posted 2016
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