I rule my own world, would like to be apart of it,
I'll show how my life doesn't take me under,
it's just set up where I struggle,
barely make end's meat,
where it don't bother me if my clothes aren't TOP FASHION,
I call myself my own Aboriginal sin,
Where money is tight, responsibilities set
my priorities is a demand that must be met.
I rise above from being the less fortunate to keep achieving,
even in lil' time, it's only a dream.
Barely turning 24, tired of living on Welfare,
Tired of feeling like life is only set on a few options,
Tired of the oppression.
Yes, I am single mother.
Of two beautiful daughters.
I call myself my own aboriginal sin.
Spare me your condolences,
I am not that weak,
This is my own critical issue to be dealt with.
Lay off the labels you give me, how you view me as another preference.
I am not homeless, I more blessed than you think.
I call myself my own aboriginal sin.
Being a mother of two I don't regret,
it's just life is lived better even if I don't got luxury.
My luxury are my daughter's, their better than a million dollar's.
Their my glory, there is no limit, even if I have to live a harder reality,
I've got my prayers set on making it soon,
I'll thank the Creator,
Because I call myself my own aboriginal sin.
That's the absolute truth..............
TRADITION IS THE ENEMY OF PROGRESS Noshows
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-aboriginal-sin/
