Liberty City

by Ismael Regis

 

I am a fighter,

I am a lighter,

I am a bright teen that lights the fire.

 

The fire is dead in my city.

There are no plants.

There’s no sweet air.

 

I pass my grandparents’ house,

I’m really scared.

The street is dead,

it smells like a trash can.

No man can make a plan

to help this city.

 

The stores are closed,

I have no clothes to wear.

It’s not fair.

I wear a trash bag on my back,

in fact, let me take that back.

I wear a ripped shirt and pants.

I wear torn shoes and book bag.

 

Kids in my street, school, and church

treat me like dirt,

but I’m not hurt.

I know that I’m on earth for a reason,

and I’m still not leaving.

Because I am a teen.

 

(Originally published at: http://poetwarriorsproject.tumblr.com/image/62355039455)