The New York Times: Miami Museum’s Challenge: The Beach
The New York Times: Miami Museum’s Challenge: The Beach.
when i was
a young boy
took me into the citayy
to seee a marching band
listen here u lil shit
don’t make a fuckin band and get famous and break up after 12 years
"your daddys little solider!" is what i was told…
But now i cant do it no more,
My hearts grown to cold…
A smile is plastered on this face,
Im looked down upon,
I guess its just the way of this human race…
Its getting hard to stand tall,
Guess im no soldier after all…
i break Down & Cry when needed,
i smile when necessary,
i stay quiet & to myself,
but my hearts still bleeding…
People say “toughen up tomorrow will be a better day!”
But what they dont know is the struggle
isnt around me…
its inside me.
i struggle to stay alive…
Its getting hard to stand tall…
Guess im not no solider after all…
Im kicked when im down,
Im a freak cause i dont dress like them,
Im the opposite of the class clown.
Im the girl built from
Born & raised from a broken home…
So tell me why you think im daddys
Is it cause im alive?
im still going?
what is it?
Ive tried to leave this place…
ive hung myself but the rope snapped…
it screamed “FAT ASS!!!’
ive cut myself but the blade was too dull
the bullet rickashayed, the rope snapped,
the knife wasnt sharp enough, the jump wasnt far enough,
and the pills they wernt strong enough…
Still think im daddys little soldier??