lower middle class

The single mother,

The black woman without a husband,

And five kids.

The welfare line that only gets longer, the children

Who never get fed, the daughter who don’t know

How to read, the men who don’t know what a condom

Is, the babies who were born to the children, the diseases

That will never get cured, the tears that will always

Keep running, the cocaine that is constantly sold,

To the men who had the daughters, who left the mother,

Whose soul is crying silently while feeding her children,

Who never get fed, the babies of the children who cry

Through the night, the constant croaks of the cocaine users

Outside their windows, the world who doesn’t give a damn,

The people who don’t listen, the ones who don’t care, the ones

Who don’t care.

-By Chaney Bennett

Chaney Bennett was born and raised in a small town, 20 minutes outside of Baton Rouge called Gonzales. Growing up she always envisioned her self becoming a teacher, but by the time she reached high school graduation, Chaney was determined to find something more deep within her self. She began writing as much as she could, trying to find her "niche", pressing to find herself. Chaney loves writing, she never knew that until it was all she did, she enjoys it, she is desperate for it, everyday is a poem, an article, a short story to be written, to be told.