I wrote this poem like in 9th grade. I got an email from a magazine that it might get published this coming spring.

Brown faces looking at me
I ask my self what do I see
Working in rows of green trees trying to make ends meat
In order to maintain the family tree
I never knew JC was watching over me, while I picked apples with a man in wrinkled skin watching me do the right thing
Going from tree to tree I never knew what I would be, working with teens much unlike me
Tattooed tears over my peers
Lord please part the sea so I can take your people out from here
Sirens of the night who would it be
One of the “G’s” or just another lonely person off the street
When shall this pain come to end so I can be in my mothers arms again
Oh lord help me to understand the things that I see
Brown faces looking at me