Toys

The world's problems ALWAYS start at home.

"Toys"

He got a cell phone
A PSP
Two rocks in his ears
A colorful pair of Tims
Brushed to perfection
Like they just came off the floor
Out of the box
From the back room storage;
In his pair of jeans
True
He dials through his tunes
Head bobbing to whatever
As he recites
Like he's on stage
Madison Square spotlight
His name in those big letters
Out on the digital marquee;
All the pretty girls
(And some ugly ones too)
Young and old
Bat those eyes
Tell him
How fine he is
From stem to stern
With his braids
His smile...

The problem is
He's only twelve years old.

She is with her posse
I can't say friends
Because females
In case you didn't know
Make amazing the ability
To fight and make-up
Within a single breath;
Her jeans are tight
Shirt
Tight
Showing hills
That will grow
Into treacherous mountains
Curves
That many a rig
Would attempt to traverse
Only in failure
To end up at the base of her canyon
Ragged and deep;
Each time she opens her mouth
My ears ring
Filling my mind with visions
Of walking into the Source Awards
And just about blowing everyone away
Because this is the end result...

She's probably about 12 or 13.

Damn these parents
And their toys
Their baby dolls
They dress and spoil
In a permanent tea time;
Damn these parents
And their toys
Who look like adults
Talk like adults
But demand like babies
The latest
Freshest
Except they're aware
Deeming me wrong
When I say it is not my
Or our responsibility
To give in to that fantasy;
Damn these parents
And their toys
Who rape my cash
When they're the one's
Who chose to spread
Who chose to laugh
The 1st time they said 'bitch'
In public
And let them run
Set the pace
To how life would be;
See
I had to earn
Through behavior and grades
Learn
Things were done on their time
I had to fear
With that fear ultimately growing
To respect
For others
For them
And their hard work
At fashioning me
A man
Who ultimately respects himself...
So damn these parents today
And their toys
Mistakenly known as children.
©2010clarencecbess