Tell Me Three Completely Random Things About Yourself.

Shame

All I feel is shame.

Suppose to be the next big thing.

It was all in my genes but I can’t fulfill that dream.

It got me going through the motions.

Handing out potions.

During a lot of healing so I won’t feel.

A coping skill to distract me from the chills I get.

It goes hand and hand with the liquor I sip.

Hiding behind it’s lit so I can keep pouring it.

Drowning myself cause I’m tired of the reality of it.

It keeps downing me and I keep doubting me.

Overthinking cause I don’t know what you think of me.

Do you hear my pleads as I scream.

Or is it only in my mind?



Diamonds

My emotions in a gutter.

Struggling to recover but I smile, it stop all the questions.

They can’t relate to the hurting of my essence.

Miss using my presence.

Saying I’m precious but only when I have blessings.

Never when I’m looking for guidance.

I’m sinking under the weight of the world.

All this pressure but can’t make diamonds.

Missing Spots

I can’t get it off my mind.

It been going on for years.

Losing who we care.

People saying they’re there but who really cares?

It’s two different things.

Tired of hearing same things.

Sorry for your lost.

They’re always in your heart like my heart didn’t stop.

Like it’s not missing spots.

I’m here to showcase my writing I hope you enjoy

This was so beautiful

dear daughter, this is for the day when you first stand in the shower, with eyes producing more water than the shower itself, and try to scrub your skin off. using all your might as if they were the chains you were once bound too and desperately need to free yourself from. firstly honey, your black is neither burden nor boundary it is a key that reveals so many treasures if you’d just persevere until you find the right doors. what are you trying to do with your caramel coloured skin of soft buttery texture that has been churned through generations of hardships to produce this fine product of supreme quality called you? don’t you know your hair is an enchanted forest, each kink and curl creating it’s own unique magic to keep your well deserved crown in place? my baby, you are royalty and ignore the white’s dictionary definition of humility, it is not stripping yourself of your crown to avoid being the subject of jealously and envy. that big, beautiful forehead of yours is filled with a lifetime of substantial knowledge and always be proud of your luscious lips that reflect the enormity of love you have to share. don’t be afraid of your already thick thighs in preparation for the day they become your own daughter’s pillow to cry into and confess all her secrets too. finally my star, have i not always showed you how bright you glow, so why did you allow them to burn you out? if i could not make you love yourself, open your eyes to see how beautiful you truly are then how could you give them permission to teach you how to hate your black then learn the lesson so well?

Fragile

I know you’ve been hurt.

Years of your emotions being dispersed.

Hardly handled with care.

All your fears being amplified from a significant that’s suppose to crystallize your worth.

Instead they impede your growth.

Leading you on when they have an unquenchable thirst.

Dragging your feelings through the dirt while they plant seeds all across the earth.

Soul ties from holes you never been expose to.

Now you’re all vulnerable.

Hiding behind a blunt or a few.

Taking shots to escape the view.

Blacking out so you can’t feel what you been through.

Your pain is visible.

I can see it all in your eyes.

It’s okay, you let it out.









Colorist or preferences

Hiding behind what they prefer

Knowing deep down they can’t stand someone of a less shade.

This goes back when we were slaves or when we were in caves.

When our pigment protected against the suns rays.

As the sun caressed our skin with elegance.

The glow of gods and goddesses.

Maybe they hated it.

So they punish.

Bashed it until we lost pride if it.

Losing our ancestral essence.

We were Kings and Queens but now they only see us as good in the sheets.

Or anger at its peak.

It’s no in between.

Never see what’s underneath.

We’re human beings.

Regardless of what they see.

Midnight

At night is when the darkness come to flirt.

It’s jealous of your joy.

It hopes to destroy with no remorse.

In torch your thoughts.

Exposing your faults.

Depleting your source.

Your endorphins running thin.

Walls closing in.

These mental wars has no end.

Want to scream for help but no one understand.

Nor do they care to give a damn.

This pain is in command.

Now you’re sitting in a pool of your own sweat.

Living through all your regrets.

Within yourself you digress.

Your stress take center stage.

Putting on a show for the ages.

Taking a bow for your devastation.

Truly love

My phone don’t ring but everybody loves me.

When I’m distant, all I hear I’m moving funny.

Questioning my silence but my body language speaks loudly.

If you loved me you would see that my mind is cloudy.

That my eyes is forecast for rain but I’m forcing delays.

That my energy is off it’s relay.

That my demons are having a field day.

I can’t shake the thoughts I’m having these days but I aspect someone who loves me to detect.

Sometimes you have to detach to reattach.

Isolate to medicate but no one understands that.

They want you to shine through all your darkness.

Evaluate them while you’re deteriorating on the inside but they love you.

How could you love me and not sense my imbalance.

Maybe it’s the mask I’m wearing but I thought love can conquer all.

Why couldn’t your love slip through the cracks?

Have a flanking attack or is that to much to ask?

Maybe you don’t truly love me.

Black Man

I’m black but also human.

I’m a man but I also have emotions.

Can’t show no fear but I’m freighted.

A bullet can come my way, from a cop or op that looks just like me.

Deep down, I struggle with that notion.

I want to see everyone grow.

Be the best that they can be but we fight these burdens of everyday life.

It’s layered on top of us.

Layers that prevents us from seeing our true self.

They say we’re hiding but we’re buried.

Suffocating, gasping for air but no one hears.

Or do they even care cause we’re men that are black and the odds are always stacked.