Sweat On The Streets Poem by Donte Trezevant

They creep in the valleys causing shadows of death
Kid tries to take a breath
Of the natural air fresh
Chokes on the CO2 fumes
Gasping for O2
But these fumes are to
Unpleasant to bear
Falls of tieration with his face in a blank stare
Shop owner doesn’t care
Whips his back so bear
Leaving his conscience bear
Drops him back on the chair
You see
This was the plan of The Game and The Streets
But the buildings on the streets
Can’t contain or confine the streets
Remedial action taking place in the streets
In the shop were the sweat hits the streets
You see
The sweatshop is a hustle
Don’t pay the workers
But pay their work
Put in on the J’s
That you rock on your feet
But he
The one who puts the work in
Gets nothing for citrine
But a sandal and sock it that
Was build on someone else’s back
Never ending cycle of torment and anguish
Leading a boycott of self
Learning how to say yes and never no
He breaks his feet in the gutta
And now his feet don’t go
Life floating in is
No expression no stares
Because his conscience
Was striped bare