Not Again

I began shooting because it got me away from my parents hate for one another
I continued to shoot because it frusterated me that no matter how much i tried i couldnt get close to my brother
I used to spend hours just me the basket and the ball
I had gotten so good at it that people around the block would at times stop to watch me in awe
Behind the back between the legs up a ten foot arch and swish
As i had done this i could never seem to hear my parents yelling or that broken dish
I wanted so hard to just wake up and for my family to be out there to join me
I wanted so hard for my parents to be proud and what they raised i would allow them to see
Not again will i ever be able to dribble between my legs at all
If i tried to run up to the basket theres a good chance i would collapse out of breath and fall
Because of the game I am no longer in the shape of my life
Because of the game I have aches all over and this much i can strife
Not again will i be the reason i hear the cheering of the crowd
Not again will I be able to trash talk big and loud
Not again will i have the chance to take my frusterations out on the court
For life has gotten so complex and so hard that my first problem would not be able to be sort
I now have just memories of the way things used to be
I am now called angry when I do not speak and let my frusterations out you see
Never again will i have the chance to talk clearly to another human being
Because every time i have attempted to do so my words get tangled up it seems
People judge me to be bad. They judge me to just die
I wonder what they would judge me if they knew every time i hear someone i have never met before say such things i feel like im going to cry
I have been betrayed by my first love and many others
But at least with when i feel up to it my poems and me will always have each other