Monday, November 30, 2009

Old News (Poem)

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They thought I'd fall, thought I'd die,
Thought I'd crawl, thought I'd hide,
They hoped I'd leave, hoped I'd flee,
Hoped I'd cease to reach what I can be,
They want me gone, want me quiet,
But where I'm from we're known to get violent,
We're known to fight, known to rebel,
We're gonna beathe or give you hell,
I'm an Iron Man, product of my environment,
Product of my issues, aquaduct of the official,
Brought up by my misuse, and balled up like a tissue,
So don't you think this is all new, not true,
Every hurt that lurks in tomorrow is old news.

2 comments:

Regina Quentin said...

Nice. I like that a lot. You should use that for something. Your personal anthem or something of that nature. I'm not kidding.

Wes Hemings said...

Thanks Reg! From now on when I meet someone I'm going to shake their hand while staring dead into their eyes and recite this poem. Then I'll smile and be like, "Glad to meet you!"

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