Sixteen Again

    Who knows the workings of a girl gripped by adulthood too north of seventeen to be sure enough of motherhood. What will happen when those close enough dont listen, and temptations have no resting place for adjustments, or the attitude love me or leave me becomes fixed and the rages sets in until someone dies. We sing about sweet sixteen, but does anyone know the dept of despair a young sixteen year old girl will go through if unprepared at life's flood gates.
     Thoughts of suicide and a belly full of boos, and a pocket filled with drugs, a young woman makes out with a man bent on sex. After the drip and exchage of fluids,  as in a moment she was with child, and did not know it nor had the mindset to care. Life on the edge has it's rush, and even a sixteen year old girl can find laughter when life is nothing at all to laugh about. The thing about women with child, there are sure signs that tell her something is happening on the inside, and while there have been few who did not know until the head was popping out from between the legs, this is not the norm. When the first question for a mother is how to feed it, her baby that is, she knows there is a problem. The need to get high or have sex to have means to be high dont stop when a baby comes, and this mother was in deep over her head.
     This little baby was tossed to people who gave a care, but life is so demanding that even they had no idea what was set in motion in their custody. Little is known about how or how much is passed from mother to child, and yet, the proof is still coming in on tales of lives ruin from mothers who lived in such a way, that what was was set in stone like grip, is a nature that hell or high water can never stop or retard. As an outside child, the thing with it, a child should never ever feel it, for if they do, the first thing on their minds will be, who will listen to me. If this question goes unanswered, the precipice that leaves the door open to all temptation is fixed with no way of shutting. 
     Manipulation and selfish gains are but few blocks in a girl's life who finds herself in the care of people too busy to listen carefully, or too inclusive to see an individual. From pillar to post, and every exchange, people never really see a female child, but a child too cute to notice danger. Before long she is exchanging sex for love, and having it taking by force and her feel it expected. No one saw her tears, when her legs were spread eagle, or saw her pain when all she wanted was a listening ear. Now she is street smart before she is street legal, and aggressive with restless tendencies, and no one knows why.
     Her boyfriend part pimp, has his own words and codes to keep what should be a woman in line, yet the freedom that comes from being her own somewhat boss, gives her a surge in power not too many can be without in those harden streets. A hustler to the core, a cutie pie just because, and knowing enough where to go, she sets out to make a score. Somewhat timid, never shy, a man can't believe his ears when she asks him if he wants some play. "how much?" $200 she spits out without flinching.  "$100 the man cries back", but they settle on $150 as the both of them rush to allow money work for the both. Somewhere between sex and the morning, a man lay dead, and a sixteen year old girl, wonders what happen and how could it have happen so fast.
     Her trial came so quick, and before she could catch her breath, she has listening ears of every description, and hindsight became 20/20. Now more sexy then any other time in her life and just as witty as any other time in her life, she works what works for her, and life behind bars are but an extension of what always was.  She is but an inkling into the world of the missing daughter, into the strong hold of those who fell from grace, young girls who still dont have the right ears for the the time needed to have that instruction to find home's resting place. I dont know what will happen to this wonder woman, nor what will become of her hopes and dreams, but I do know she exist, and I do know she will survive.
     Sixteen again, this time unlike her mother, she is locked in a prison house, waiting time to pass to somewhat atone for deeds done. Ironically there are many ears to listen now, only what will be said, how much of it will matter now, but at least she is alive, and she will find others she can relate to. Young lady whoever you are, we speak of you in tears, for we did not listen to you when we could have made a difference, but we try now to make a difference with those who can still hear us if indeed they will. Women of daughters about or around 13 or so, listening is most important, try and listen to them and not for what you want to hear. Let them find out for themselves without experiencing by themselves. The art of parenting, is not living for a child, but helping them make choices. I am no good parent, just a bushman who's desire is for their choice, and helping them to live with that choice once made...nj