Cause Mama didn’t raise no fools,

And Papa didn’t sacrifice his health,

To watch these kids become tools,

of a man with all the wealth.

So we strap ourselves in,

laced boots,

Unruly hair,

with one-eighth of a plan,

and seven-eights of a prayer

on lips,

With broken smiles,

And dreams reading like devotions

Of pastels birthed from an abyss,

That stretches out like an Ocean.

Knowing our generation

Full of Roses,

Will have to learn to be Dandelions,

Growing stubbornly through cement

Meant to show us our place,

To reach the sun shine on our face…

Because Mama didn’t raise no fools,

And Papa didn’t sacrifice his health,

These kids won’t become tools,

Of a man with all the wealth

With one-eighth of a plan,

And seven-eights of a prayer

There’s nothing else to lose,

When your aim ain’t wealth.

Next Chapter: Enlightenment