The Gilded Ghetto
by Zamzam Ahmed
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I grew up in what you'd call a ghetto
In a place where community reigned
Every child and parent, closely chained
Like a vine on a beautiful silver gate
Our future tied, everything at stake
Motivation, a feeling, a word, I'd often await
From dilapidated roofs to broken doors
Every nook, cranny and hole, a sore
With such little money, we were all, poor
But for everything I didn't have, I was happy
Happy for the family that I created
Outside those large, broken doors
I grew up in what you'd call a ghetto
A place that taught me more about
The world than any book ever did
ESTÁ A LER
A Modest Platter
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