Everyday I wake up fighting the narrative that society pushes about the black man. I hope you can understand, just let me vent.
Lately I’ve been slipping into a state of depression, lack of passion. Teary eyed, no motivation whatsoever. Most importantly I’ve been feeling alone. Like when nowhere feels like home. Like when everyone you love turn on you. Like when you everyone’s go to…..but who can you turn too?
Constantly pushing myself so I won’t become statistic, or who they say I’m suppose to be. Even in my most vulnerable state. Behind these tears, I just want to be great.
Fighting against perception, and the ones who telling lies. Living my truth, so this can’t be televised. Often I look up to the skies, praying that being too real won’t be my demise. Lately it been seeming like only the fake survive, and the real get killed.
This shit feels like poison, even though I feel like I was chosen. My whole family tree belong to the system, so who can I turn to about the triumph that I’m going through.
Sometimes I get tired of attempting to be “the one who made it out”, “I always knew you would be the one”, before this product you thought “like father like son” “you just a bum” I can hear the whispers, nothing is secret under the sun. I’m not a false prophet, I’m God’s son.
You can’t define me cause I’m one of one. A lot of fallen soldiers but this journey not done. I came from the mud, but I can still see the sun. This is my reality, free my twin and my daddy. Even though it saddens me, I’m going to keep running it up, because I know that’s what you’d rather see. When it’s all said and done…
I hope y’all remember me.