Name: Not established
Location: Queens, NY
Gestation: 8 months
Mother: Chantelle, 16
Father: Tyrone, 18

But mommy, your just 16, a little baby too

Dropping out of school, with fear all you knew

Scared, confused, without thought for what to do

Pregnant, alone, no one to help you through


I’m just a little cell wrapped in gel in your shell

Blanketed in your choices, clothed in your hell

What you chose makes me lose, I’m stripped of a chance

A future unhinged through your held back advance

A cigarette my lunch with a alcohol infused

My cells are multiplying and defying all your booze

These deeds that your doing are just a way to grieve

It’s not right a tweeting teen bears a baby at sixteen

Yet, My future is reflected in how I am protected

Reflected in your education now circumstantially rejected


But Mommy,

You’re a victim of the system, mom’s don’t make it back to class

If I could abort this future, I would give you this free pass

But Mommy,

Daddy’s left and gin’s the comfort that you seek

It’s not your fault morning sickness yields attendance twice a week.

But Mommy,

You didn’t buy a baby but it wasn’t given free

The fee is  broken branches on our growing family tree


What to eat, how to treat, what you do with your teat

Is a product of your mother and her hampered heart beat

I’m a fetus on Island surrounded in your mote

Your tongue holds the key to giving me a boat


And Mommy….


I want to stay afloat, not sink with the scum of this place

An educated mind will equip me for what I face

I don’t want to swim in your waters or rise and fall with your tide

I want to conquer these rapids for safety to reside

You kept me on a whim and now life’s forcing me to swim

Education is a paddle to pull away from this grim

I am in a state of ill fate, the fault not my own

A state that’s a trait of where I am grown

Floating in your fluid, feeling a pull

A suction to a world that I will never reach in full

I enter this life crying, screaming for a choice

A choice to not be muted and stripped of a voice

While your home on the phone, leaving me crying all alone

While your actions start to build a list of diseases prone


My schools picked out, because I live in queens

A teacher who isn’t qualified and who laughs at my dreams

I am a baby with no hope, no chance of getting by

When education’s  predetermined my future is why I cry

Hug me with the question, “what do you want to be?”

Cuddle with the belief that I can follow that dream

Believe in my visions so I start to do the same

Educate me to care about a diploma proudly framed

A residential address sets me up for defeat

Condemned to delinquency, dealing powder on the street


Mommy, Give me a chance… touch my face.

Sing me song… give me your grace

Don’t sit me in font of walls that don’t spark my mind

Don’t give me a life of a child left behind


Gangs will welcome, with food and open arms

I’m an education victim due to schoolings factory farms

Neither of us will have the skills to fill a food stamps form

How will we get the nutrition and clothing we need worn


Nourishment and shelter will be provided by the gang

We might be dodging bullets but we’ll have food in our hands

I’m looking down the barrel of the life for you and me

These are the projections of imperfection that I see


Give me the freedom to pursue what’s on my mind

Mommy… best team management apps..Don’t them give me the life of a child left behind.


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