Still fighting it

Is my life supposed to be like this or is it just poor luck. Day to day it seems more like I’m just coasting through, almost just trying to survive. I wake up at the crack of dawn and make my way across our flat stumbling over my brothers and sisters to gather my clothes and boots. Mom forgot to go to the store again, and now that I mention it she’s nowhere to be seen. Guess the 7-11 will have to do. I make my way out down stairs the front door is broken and won’t close again, who knows what kind of s*** went down last night. I heard the arguments and brawls. Most TV shows you see you hear that kind of noise followed by the sirens of the men in blue, but not around here. ‘Better let them wipe themselves out’ I’m sure they’re saying, or simply no one bothers to call. That’s the problem around here no one’s helping no one. I’m doing a big enough charity keeping my brothers and sisters away from the dope dealers or at least I try. Just two years ago today my brother was killed because some crazy a** crack head couldn’t get him to buy nothing. They shouldn’t have to deal with this s***, no one should. I keep walking to school in early morning, hoping that today I won’t get jumped because even for the dealers it’s too early to be out. I look around cautiously and never make eye contact with any passerby, never know if it’d be my last. I always think that it can’t be all that bad out there. I’ve been other places. Back in the day my pop once took me across the river to Busch Stadium. I had the day of my life. Downtown over there isn’t like downtown here. People can walk around and not be afraid to walk around. Not having to run from street light to street light. We ain’t got shit to do other than kill each other and drugs. Its just the way of life. For some people the way of life is driving big Hummers and sipping expensive wines and eating crab cakes. Me, its wondering if my mom is knocked up again in some cheap a** motel while I snack on my dried out breakfast sandwich within the bullet holed windows of 7-11.
I keep making my way to this joke that people call a school. I’m wise to what goes on. ‘Why help the hopeless kids in East? What are they going to do?’ I strive to prove all those ignorant white people wrong. I go to school, when I can make it there, and when I am there I sure as hell make it a point to get something out of it. Some people say that even if you got an education; you still just as well off as the next stupid bottom dweller. I think its my ticket out of this dump. Make something of myself. I spend my day trying to concentrate, trying to get mine. Even now its hard. I thought basketball would be a great addition, not anymore. Team got taken away due to the riot last week, against ourselves. I walk through the halls keeping a watchful eye. Three-fourths of the kids here ain’t got s*** going for them and they know it, but they don’t even try. They figure drugs is the way to go. At least they making money. The drug dealers are the most productive people in this whole place. Even the teachers don’t want none, why should they care when the kids don’t care. It’s a nasty cycle and nothing no one can do about it. Some of my classes I’m the only one there today, some even the teacher ain’t there today. I need to get out. Schools finally out, and now the frenzies begin. The dealers skip their last class, yeah surprising they’re in class but so are their users, as to get the best place to heckle the youngins from the elementary down the street. Stupid a**holes. I start my walk home, and fight the rest of the way. Everyday is a fight. Can’t even get to church on Sunday without fighting. It’s a loosing fight too, one of those one sided ones where the bad guys always loose. I hope to God it turns around, but seems like He turned around on us a while ago. Wonder whats on Cops tonight?