Hey Tayo tell your story…
Foster children trapped in the system,
being pimped by strangers in the system,
all in the name of money, power, and respect.
Babies receiving nothing
except silence and neglect.
Please…
please don’t lock me up like a beast.
At seven years old,
I couldn’t even call the police.
It was me, myself, and I.
My childhood wasn’t easy.
Some nights Dad would skin-pop,
get high,
then punch me in the eye.
Who could I run to quickly?
This child needed a vacation
from the drama,
from the trap house, crack house.
Yeah… I just wanted compassion.
Eight years old in the courthouse.
Nine years old contemplating suicide,
wondering where to run and hide.
So I went hard with a pen
inside my composition book,
dropping my feelings on the page,
hoping somebody would finally look.
Embrace my pain.
Anger mixed with a touch of rage.
Have the courage
to read even a single page.
Take all of me in,
from beginning to end.
Every word stitched together
with the thread of ill fortune.
Absorb these emotional battle wounds,
these scars of ill fortune,
like horns clashing against broken walls.
I was just a child crying in the dark,
Trying to find love with a wounded heart.
Every scar tell a story, every bruise left a mark,
Now I write these memories hoping healing starts.
Can you save me?
Can you hear me?
Before another lost child disappears completely…
Can you save me?
Numerous foster parents.
A so-called bastard child.
Not one day sugary sweet,
only sour and wild.
Touched by perverted hands,
women I refuse to call
sisters or mothers.
And y’all expect my heart to mend?
That’s crazy.
Y’all just as broken as they were.
Look at my back,
painted with child abuse war scars.
I was only an innocent little brown boy,
forced to mature too fast,
forced to pack away
my imaginary toys.
So to your children,
if you’re listening,
please beware of strangers
who pretend to be your friend.
Because before you know it,
it becomes another
Antwone Fisher story
all over again.
We have to stop this cycle
and start a new beginning.
TayoHorn_TH920
