This aint no fairy tale
Its the story
Of a young girl
Who lives through life

Wich seems like hell
Gun shots
Selling rocks
Prostitution

Drug distribution
Is what seems to go on all around her
People dying
Babies crying

For their Mother or Father
Sexual abusing
Drug using
This is all around her

This is all the poor girl hears
Tempation at every corner
Pulling her in all direction
Yearning for love and affection

And still the girl rise
She fills herself with pride
Begs to be different
Be Independent
Not Dependent

Her own leader
Even though
Eveyday she stare temptation in the eye
She still hold her head up high

In the end
Its up to her
Wether she will fallow the crowd
And end up dead

All because of letting someone get in her head
Or be diffenrent
And not care what someone may say
Or what they said

This young girl chooses a new way
Its called poetry
Or as I put it
Floetry

The flow of everday life
Mixed with poetic intentions
So you see
This is a ghetto story about

A girl from the hood
Who set her soul free
By writing and ryhming
Using this word called poetry