Ghetto Sense

Hold your head up kid
You're just another victim of the ghetto
Yet you've got guts
With dirt on your torn boots
and your ripped sleeves looking sick
You get by on prayer
But you'll make it some day
Know it. Own it.
Another victim of the ghetto
but you've got better things to do than mope
You've got your hungry brothers to feed
a young baby on the way
And you are flat out broke.
but you've got guts
so you'll find a way
Live it. Feel it
The decay where you are
Sometimes suffocates you
tightens up your throat 
like mothballs dipped in Kerosene
The paint is peeling from the walls
The ceiling caving in over a bare head
Itching to crash southward
On this bitter cold day
you ruminate on the meaning of things
Yet you get by with what you have
Victim of the ghetto though you are
You have your pride
Your Self-esteem
Filled with it without knowing the sense
called dread.
You'll find the means to salvage your life
and reclaim your questioned existence
Good luck, kid.
I know you can do it