pain from the game

[Br0k3nW1ngz187]

pain from the game

Roses are red
Violets are blue
The game was sweet
But the pain was true
Once in a while the poor kid got to ear
True suffering he knew
Who do you think of when you’re thinking about suffering?
Kinds in the street no food, stomach rumbling
Or ballers in their E-Class still drug smuggling?
Growin up as a child was no problem
Do your homework, go out with the fellas, ball em
Now things are deeper
You see the blood in the street, then you see her
You see the woman going through life
Husband was a wife-beater, that dropped the bat, and picked up the knife
You see the chalk, then you see him
A full grown man, cryin caz the jacked his rim
You walk to school, see the hard stares
You watch the news, and don’t cry of the deaths, caz ain’t no more cares
You talk to your friend, he cries cause his mother passed
He takes out his knife, cause his will won’t last
You see the grave, and your pain isn’t there
But when you get in bed, you start pulling out your hair
You walk the streets, see the dirt stained faces
You see the kids and they feel ******
Problem is, this is just another day in your city.

well?

 

[kman_69]

definetly feeling it...although i have a few critisisms....

you should read back over it, coz theres a fair few spelling mistakes that make it hard to read....and the rhyme scheme is a little all over the place which effects the flow...

but defiently feeling the subject...really good content..

Kids in the street no food, stomach rumbling
Or ballers in their E-Class still drug smuggling?

^^i liked that line...has the ying-yang sorta feel to it...showin both sides of things...

peace.

 

[Mr. Untouchable]

"Kinds in the street no food, stomach rumbling,
Or ballers in their E-Class still drug smuggling,"

^^^
Really like that line, all of it was deep.

 

[Ghetto_Ghost]

first 2 lines was wack mainly because its some grade 1 shit but definantly you made up for it throughout the poem. i think you captured the essence of the game pretty well. keep writing.

 

[fisherM.A.N.]

i agree with the previous comments.. "Kinds in the street no food, stomach rumbling / Or ballers in their E-Class still drug smuggling" was a good line but the first two i didnt like too much.. its good to see someone who recognizes the problems of society today as opposed to all the people who glorify the baller and drug dealer lifestyle in text or song

~1~

 

[~live2tell~]

Firstly I'd like to say I thought the message was excellent, you said what you wanted to very well and you made your poem a pleasure to read.

I do have to agree with Kman though aswell, if you were to read back over your work you would find that there are some corrections that if were to be corrected then would make your poem even better.

Hope you continue to write.

 

[Bender]

I thought everything after the first four lines was good, the rhythm is totally different. Not to say that the first four lines were bad but maybe to imply they could make a poem on their own, and have two poems out of this one piece of work!

Roses are red
Violets are blue
The game was sweet
But the pain was true
--------------------------------------------------
Once in a while the poor kid got to ear
True suffering he knew
Who do you think of when you’re thinking about suffering?
Kinds in the street no food, stomach rumbling
Or ballers in their E-Class still drug smuggling?
Growin up as a child was no problem
Do your homework, go out with the fellas, ball em
Now things are deeper
You see the blood in the street, then you see her
You see the woman going through life
Husband was a wife-beater, that dropped the bat, and picked up the knife
You see the chalk, then you see him
A full grown man, cryin caz the jacked his rim
You walk to school, see the hard stares
You watch the news, and don’t cry of the deaths, caz ain’t no more cares
You talk to your friend, he cries cause his mother passed
He takes out his knife, cause his will won’t last
You see the grave, and your pain isn’t there
But when you get in bed, you start pulling out your hair
You walk the streets, see the dirt stained faces
You see the kids and they feel ******
Problem is, this is just another day in your city.

Things like this, I find, can be eradicated by your own imposed criticism on your own work. I find myself writing and re-writing constantly, which gets to be a labourous and essential process for any writer serious about their work. Good work, keep writing.