Shattered Stones

Born from bricks where the sirens moan, Project halls where shadows groan. New York nights raised me alone, One boy in a world made of shattered stone. Jumped for breathin’, for bein’ too quiet, Learned early — silence don’t stop the riot. Mama worked doubles, Pop was a ghost, So I trained my fists and read the most. Steel in my stance, tears in my chest, Martial arts taught me how to rest — My anger in palms, my pain in forms, While the world watched, I weathered the storms. Poor, not dumb — I soaked the game, Street-smart mind with a scholar’s name. Love came short, but not from my seeds, My kids see the king in a man who bleeds. They call me strong, they call me Dad, But outside these walls, it’s just too bad. To the world, I’m a wrench in another man’s dream, Used, then tossed like I ain’t what I seem. Gave my all to build your throne, But never once did you claim my stone. Now I walk through life, scarred but free, Still unloved by most — but never by three. I carry the city in every step, Concrete breath and broke street rep. I ain’t perfect, but I’m proud to say: The man I am? I made from clay. Shattered, but built — alone, but whole, With fists of peace and a lion’s soul. This a