LBB
If by night, you guys off the Rez,
Carrying cases of beer,
Hardons for my mom,
For me and Charles, fear,
At the top of the stairs, we sit,
Unable to see, but intently listening to their bull,
Pellet gun loaded,
Pumped 8 times it’s like a .22,
If they hurt my mom, through eyes I would shoot,
Eventually, we’d get tired and go to our bed,
It would slowly go away,
the burning in my stomach, and the anger in my head
If by day, it would be much the same way,
I would be locked outside,
The little blonde ,
Would put on a show,
As I yelled and pounded on the door or window,
We’ve endured some of the same,
poverty, cold, and government food,
But our similarities disappear in a flash,
you have your perfect culture,
And I’m poor white trash.
JEV
Copyright © Jim Vandevelde | Year Posted 2024
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