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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #1991038
a poem about the life of an adolescent girl on the streets...
The Corner

I stood on the corner as plain as could be.
My mother stood likewise, across from me.
I saw her protector arrive and wave her get in.
I saw she was pulled by her weave and slapped when she didn't.

I did not support him and protected myself.
I could run really fast and a blade always helped.
A back up plan, I kept in reserve.
I supplied her with drugs and they supplied her with nerve.

Little did I know that my mom had been saved?
When the police arrived later, I simply thought a mistake.
Surely, she wouldn't leave me alone in my battle.
I need not have wondered, whores herded as cattle.

She showed up three days later to place my bail.
She was the last face I saw as I turned back to jail.
To take the money was to trade one cell for another.
I’d sooner stay where I was, not in the place of my mother.

I finally got free when they placed me in therapy.
I had no hope it would work, but still took the freebie.
The withdrawal was painful and I thought I would die.
But as I welcomed the tears, I welcomed the sky.

I tried to bury my anger as an unwanted seed.
I was forced back to school and got all A’s and one B.
I stayed with the foster parents and they adopted me.
They wanted to send me to college and had faith in me.

But I was circling the drain and feeling no courage.
I needed the old neighborhood and needed to purge.
The familiar returned with uncharacteristic speed.
I watched my Mom standing nod out on the street.

I wanted to scream at her fully and pull at her hair.
But as she turned around slowly, a familiar blank stare.
She did not know who I was and did not despise me.
It was just as I’d thought; she’d never recognized me.

I am who I was, as I take fully the stage.
I tell the story of my life with humor and rage.
As I take in the laughter and feel the applause,
I shed tears for my mother, who I am , and who I was.
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