When I look at children growing up today, I wonder what questions must be going through their minds? How do they feel watching our country sweat the small stuff while things fall down around our ears? This is what inspired this poem.
Mama Won’t You Tell Me
©2011 by P. Newman-Harris
Mama won’t you tell me
How can I make it through the day?
How can I have fun
How can I play
When little children are being blown away?
In a world that is morally sick
How do I not end up a statistic?
How do I stay encouraged when I’m expected to fail?
How can I stay out of jail?
How can I learn to be a man
When there is no one there to take my hand
And no one to understand?
They tell me to stand on my own two feet,
But how can I stay clean living on a crime infested street?
I don’t know how long I can stay on the right path.
I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
What do I do when there are no jobs and no way
To make a decent pay?
You may think I’m too young to know,
But Mama I want to know
How can I be all I can be
When the decks are stacked against me?
I appreciate your sacrifices.
I really want to make something of my life
But how do I keep trying
When inside I’m dying
A little every day?
How can I make my fears go away?
How can I plan for tomorrow
When I don’t’ know if I’ll make it through the day?
Mama won’t you tell me
Who is going to save me?