This story is about a Native American boy,
He is named Chief Rocka.
If you want to hear this life of this boy,
Then sit back and put away the Vodka.
Haven’t you heard of Chief Rocka’s story?
It’s very intriguing you know.
He’s a very young boy,
Of about nine and he’s not for show.
Hey you guys,
It is the Chief Rocka.
C’mon put down the beer cans,
Cause nobody likes Vodka.
I am a kid of nine years of age,
It’s up to me as the last of a dying breed.
It looks like I’ve got center stage,
I’ll pour my heart out on this until it’ll bleed.
My breed is dying as of right now,
I am just a little kid defenseless.
But of course, we don’t know how,
Because a bad guy likes to beat senseless.
Yer life better be better than mine,
I am warning you all about my life.
Killed over stupid things like blind,
Nobody worries for a bloodshed knife?
My story is going down in history,
It all began when our chief left us.
So I stepped in as chief of many,
Hopefully, they give me all their trust.
Our chief left us and fled the country,
Of which we called our precious homes.
Now we’re doomed and we’re in misery,
Sleeping under only non-heated domes.
My parents abandoned I and my siblings,
Never looking back.
This awkwardness,
Is on full attack.
Overlooking the safety from me,
My country needs me as their chief.
So I stepped into position and was ready,
Because if we don’t have a chief we don’t sleep.
Never understanding that a nine-year-old,
The boy can protect us from sworn enemies.
Because it’s never estimated to be cold,
Sleepless nights and no heat in our fireplaces.
Yeah, yeah, I am only nine,
I get that a kid won’t save us all.
Please just trust in my kind,
Because I’ll prove it just wait for a call.
So Chief Rocka how do you save?
I answer, “Sit back and relax I got this.”
Nobody trusted me in my place,
Because a boy-chief won’t be jokeless.
Just I am determined,
To save us from destruction.
Moreover, I am blessed,
Have faith, and I’ll be the reason.
The city is under attack,
With all weapons of any kind.
I have to prepare to strike back,
Really a nine-year-old boy undefined?
Helplessly I await,
For a reason to strike.
Never sleeping I stay awake,
Hoping to attack from the back.
Poetry
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