Thursday, July 29, 2010


Dedicated to: A.W - I'm glad you didn't push the trigger and grew out of such lifestyle, Ramadan Kareem :)

He said he held 45 on his head
Hoping to end the misery life has gifted him
Life on the fast lane has raped him of his inner strength
Born to poverty with a black badge wrapped around his skin
He has little to be hopeful for
They would rather fund an abortion center
Then fund his education
So he sits and reminisces on the good times
Where his mother would shed tears at the sight of a dollar bill
At the prospect of feeding her babies
If he, could, he would place the world at her footstep
And pride himself for being the man he is
But rather tonight he abandons that and becomes the man
That would send him to live the life of a thug
Adorns himself with bling bling
The only means he knows how to shine
Life where colors like blue or red make difference
Life where the streets luring you with its lust
But vomits you out instantly when trouble emerges
Blinded by ignorance
Driven by desperation
He takes the road of loneliness
Concrete walls that pierce right through his skin
Ignored by the world and placed in a cage
He reminisces on his past
Life on the fast lane
Sitting in the dark and silent cell
He tries to reminisce on what attracted him to this filthy
Where brothers and niggas were abundant in times of happiness
Yet even family abandoned you in times of trial…
As he pushes the trigger – the nigga in him speaks out and says
You were born alone
And you are dying alone…
Life on the fast lane,
Sh*t, that was something.
But was it?
click, click

-Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2010

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