Pain is my witness to sickness
Probably one of the reasons I’m stuck in this system
A child too young to understand the full meaning of a victim
A mother leaving her kids after the war
Abandonment issues, permanent scars
A father who left, denying his presence
A child feeling disposable, just as the waste is
Looking for love and guidance in all the wrong places
Finding meaning in violence, a form of expression
Unheard tears, transforming into aggressions
15 years old in juvenile detentions
Only thing slowing me down was artistic obsessions
Visions I started chasing
Creations I thought were amazing
Spray paintings on walls, property defacements
Trying to forget my economic and social conditions
My mother cleaning houses in a landfill of racists
My young heart filled with all types of bias and hatreds
A mother working hard to appeal to my rational senses
Addictions to alcohol, drugs and 2 sexing
Coping mechanisms 2 inner depressions
Doing everything possible to numb my senses
Avoiding deeper reflections and questions
Finally found God as my refuge
Asking He hear the pains of the struggle and open
His protections and blessings