Wed. Post

When I was comin' up in school
I ain’t care..
When I went there..
I just went to look good..
Going to class was somethin' dat I
ain’t get into
I had to wake up too early in da mornin'
School was interruptin’ my dreams
I started skippin’ school wit my mama’s
permission in the 3rd grade
She would leave me home alone sometimes
wit my lil brother
I would make us noodles and ham sandwiches
and grape kool-aid.
And when she got home at night
she would tell me
Dat I was goin to school da next day
said she was helpin' me
Commit a crime
it was called truancy
But I can’t remember one week
where I ain’t skip at least one day
So somehow I made it through
and graduated
Class of 1998

I wasn’t alone walkin' across dat stage
I had somethin’ hidin' underneath
My graduation gown
I was pregnant wit..
My boyfriend’s child
at 18 years old..
I was finna be somebody’s mommy
and I really ain’t have no idea what to do
My baby’s father wasn’t bout nothin'
….when I went to him
About da matters of our child
he dissed me
Sayin’ dat there ain’t no way it’s his
callin' me all types of whores
Sayin’ dat I f*ed his boys
and he was ghost…
I never heard from him again
from dat day on..
It was just my baby and me..

I moved from my mama’s house
to da projects called Highland South
I got me some food stamps
and braided hair
So I could stay home
and not have to pay no daycare
My mama would watch lil man
when I wanted to run da streets
She would tell me I bet not come get him
if I was out there drinkin
Which I was…
often enough I would stumble home
Not knowin who I had just slept wit
not knowin if I had used protection
Prayin’ when I woke up
that I ain’t get HIV
I wasn’t no slouch though
I was getting’ paid for what I was doing
Had them payin’ all my bills
and I wasn’t doing nothin’
But openin’ my legs
and givin’ a lil bit of *you fill in the blank*

I had to put food on da table
and keep da lights on
My lil man stayed fresh
and you already know
Dat I was flyy
I ain’t have no real job
But somehow we always got by
until one day..
Bullets flew through my door..
apt 132 just got shot up..
I was caught in the line of da fire
I got shot in da chest and in da face
I must of blanked out for a minute
cuz I ain’t hear nothin’ else
Then I remember looking up
at a woman standin’ over me
Sayin’ dis is payback
for F*ing wit her babies daddy
She said she hoped dat I died
and if I didn’t she would be back
If I told anyone bout what just had happened

My lil boy was at my mama’s house
at da time
I was on da floor dying
straight up losing my life
All I could think of was my lil boy
who would grow up with no parents
Cuz I would be dead
and his daddy don’t care
All cuz I ain’t take the time out
to do what I should have done
Cuz of not handlin my business
when I should….I kept me and my baby in the hood
Another ghetto tragedy
they see me as another chicken head
Who ain’t nothin’ but dead..

**This whole broken english, ebonics, a.a. vernacular..whatever you like to call it..Is hard to write..especially if you didn't start writing a particular piece in that "fashion". So I may not be consistent. I really could care less at this point.***