In Humanity
In the struggle,
Livin’ outside of a solid bubble,
Writin’ down my thoughts and troubles,
But my thoughts are in a muddle.
Once was in the rubble.
Deep, down, drownin’, decoupled.
On the sharpened edge of blades that always seem to come in doubles.
Day by day I seem to fade away,
But for now I stay,
So I grit my teeth and pray,
‘Cause in this life you’re prey,
You always have to pay,
And in the end you do not win the game you’re forced to play.
What is equality?
Born equally, but you have to pay a fee.
Diffe-rent for you and me.
What’s it all supposed to be?
I’m tryin’ to get by but I ask why?
Should I stop and cry?
That won’t get me up and out this spot before I die,
So I,
Went from poor to broke to nearly broken, chokin’,
I awoke, ‘n’,
From what I heard spoken,
Livin’ like a joke ‘n’, life’s a joke,
But it’s not a joke when you’re broke.
With the pen I stroke,
Lines like a diction,
Addicted to a fiction.
The affliction.
Meaning less than my position.
Money’s always listenin’.
Never really glistenin’.
Chasin’ what you’re missin’ ‘n’,
Makin’ your hair thinin’ ‘n’,
Needed but you do not wanna pay me.
I feel the pain like wild animals screamin’ God save me.
The world is cryin’ out for attention like a baby.
Money and power scrape the floor beneath like ships with rabies.
You want what you do not have,
Never satisfied with what you get, and so you grab,
Now you’re sad, ‘cause what you had wasn’t bad,
But you can’t go back,
Because the time has now lapsed.
Life’s a trap.
And I’m still movin’ up the stack,
Stayin’ in attack,
Try’n’a keep all of the people off my sack.
In fact,
I tend to react,
But I must stay on track,
And look at the front to not lack.
The poor understand the poor but all want more.
Only the poor can understand the poor, sore for sore.
Don’t wanna be poor, you wanna be on the shore.
But life is unequal from the day that you’re born.
—written in rhyme form, drawn from emotional thoughts based on experiences of real life.
by J. R. William Marshall