A revelation that we all one day will shine again, is a reflection that everyone hasn’t been where i’ve been nor seen the things my eyes has witnessed. An assumption that we all have shined before must have come from a higher pedestal then mine. Those eyes don’t witness this dark, nor do those bodies feel this cold. They flesh is warmed by fire, while this feeling in my tummy aches, no yummy cakes. No burning blaze and they wish to shine again, on days we haven’t shined at all. To weak to stall, or get involved. It seems those pedestals privileged! This pedestal petite, the sum of i’m to weak to stagger them, to fragile to stand up against the wind. Feel the feeling now of my stomach growl, while they running round, like penny pop my ballon with his pin. Its sucks to smile, no sunshine, shining down on me, only hunger pains to the same old beat.
have you ever heard someone say “ i wonder where the dreams go , when the sky lit 🔥?” that’s from the heart of ambition, like how people have so many dreams and goals one moment, and the next in the limelight, spending the last dollar you had instead of investing, putting yourself in predicaments instead of protecting what’s rightfully yours. where my dream go? with me that’s why i can’t get the party popping, back to rocking like i use to. why when my head in the clouds i don’t usually wanna come down. when i’m smiling, and i’m hurting but no one knows, it’s cause my goals weigh heavy on me, my dreams i see with open eyes, with no finish line in sight, if i don’t take my dreams with me every moment of my life
“ turns out the sun don’t work as good as the pictures, no sun beam shining down on me, or what’s left. Im bias to the rain, it tap tap splatter over me, filling me up to the brim, my inner being, being replenished, the outter core being drowned. it promised me restoration to the limbs that’s been broken by the wind, so i waited! i paced, i watched all the rose bloomed, awaiting the sign, that i will one day fine my way as well! rain storms after rain storms i sat idled, the more the water rise , the deeper my roots grew , the faster it dug out my past, but i was stronger. with all that pain in on top of me , still i prevailed,tears rolled down my petals, i survived, and now when the sun shall ever shine again i blossomed and somehow in a garden full of roses i became a daisy “
rain drops fill the translucent vases that sat next to the door frame. dark clouds filled the nights and thumping drummer boys played music in our ears. “ will it ever stop” i asked my mother, “ oh yes dear my poor little boy” “ it always does” she added. i meant our fetch for those droplets that runs away with the wind. 14 vases now, 14 more to go. as we scrambled to not let any go to waste. Moreso because we couldn’t afford to, the only thing we needed to survive was been held over our forhead, nagging wages. i dazed off “ there’s nothing , “ my little brother so eagerly discovered. “ where are you water , my mind asked but my mouth did not. it was then Instead of our basin pool baths became “ Oh Baths” like dang you out the tub already, oh baths! it really hadn’t occurred to me til things my mother use to let us indulged in became no more. . No long hot baths, no Running Water While Washing The Dishes, drink all your drink was still the same but we was now encouraged to drink it slow. Times my mother eyes watered first , and then dried “ My God will provide” was always last. it had been two summers since “ hurry now “ the rain may not last long, as we prepared to collect again water from the most high. water that was prepared for us , because with this we still managed to live. and to hide but who will be accountable for taking what he has giving to us, could they live without what is essential to survive? Could they Cope ?
lately the more i focus on pulling myself out of property the more down i become. the more i have less things to say. it feels as if i had a new broken heart and the pieces was way beyond shattered. i drift off into the thoughts of my head that can on make me smile but can’t make me bread, and then i’m back, no smiles on sunday mornings, just focused practice,potentially becoming. But, Who am i becoming. i’ll tell my secret of you will; i have no ability to execute! it’s my weakest link, a trait that revolves around discipline and trait i also lack. I know these days will wind down and even doe my mind is a mile a minute tryna respire. even after i’m all drained out with nothing to show for it. not a single dollar to my name. so i wonder. who am i actually becoming, will i become the POMC , that i have self proclaimed myself all those years ago. Could the world accept a black african princess who was birthed into poverty!
it’s hard to pull yourself out of a stirring pot, even harder if that pot is filled with things that keep you lock down. i know your saying who would want to keep us lock down into a system in which we believe we have been made free? An oppressor of course, all these oppressor of sorts. who would benefit, and why wouldn’t we want more? The people who put those laws into play. china was able to pull over a half of million people out of poverty’and here we are living the american dream, only we living in this first world country, under third world poverty rules, who to say we won’t be better off pitching penny to post to make ends meets. Where programmed to a nine to five to be the essential things we need in life, and many people are against anything that’s unconditional to traditions. But are we bound to be bound to the system to forever?