Flawed But Proud

CATEGORY

life

I am one of many

Strong and eager to become more then what I am now

Yet I am bound by a code that has never be written in stone

Just in the skies…the sand…in my mind where everything collects but is never rewarded.

Broken silence, long lost goals fill the air around me.

Choking me like thick smoke.

My body is trying to adjust to it all but it cannot

Is it for the best?

Knowing that I am flawed, but proud.

I see all that there is to be seen in the mirror.

Yet everyone around me still find ways to discredit me…every chance that they can get.

So whom do I run too?

Do I stand and fight?

Or continue to walk around…blinded by my own insecurities and unwillingness to accept my wrong?

My skin is burnt…darkened…youthfulness has been bestowed upon my body.

As the years pass on, my process slows.

For I am not as young as I look…and not as old as I sound, yet here I am seeing things more clearly than I once did some years back.

But still, I am bound by the code.

To be strong, a leader, nothing more then another figure in a line of others

Walking, working, bowing, and producing

What I am trying to say is that I do not need another Judas….

I do not need help crucifying myself, or help with condemning myself to an old weathered cross

I do not need help educating my future kids to the life of the streets, and the dope boys

I do believe that I can do that on my own as well

To be real about my and learn to accept my own faults I had to realize that I would have to live with and around ignorance, and misunderstandings.

That I would have to fight not only the man that I see in the mirror but also the very ones that I am supposed to be walking side by side with, yelling proudly that I am here and I refused to be ignored with my fist held high in the air.

I should be proud

I should feel welcomed in my own dwelling

I should not be looked down upon and questioned but praised for being educated, a leader, a hopeful…and not a statistic

Would it be better if I were sitting on the corner ignoring the fact that I have a greater mind then most suit wearing men who know very little but believe In their hearts of hearts that they know everything that lies under the sun?

That the lives that I am creating would be limited because I have been limited to a life that I am too eager to maintain, so I can have a reason to do whatever I want whenever I want?

Reality is a hard pill to swallow.

It cuts off the airways as the pride within us try’s to push it back out.

I could be that dope boy, that baby daddy that will never do right but will always say the right things to get that quick nut.

The homeboy that would encourage you to hit up the club, and drive towards nothing, with nothing but the moment kissing my a** as I sag my pants as I tell the world to suck my d**k as I cheat myself out of every possible chance of making it out the hood.

I could be that boy who calls himself a man who has put down another mothers child because I didn’t like the s**t that he was doing.

I would be disrespectful and smoke, drink and f**k my life away in a matter of years...or at least until reality hits me and by then I would be a old man wondering if I have time to redo the s**t that I have did.

I could put my trust in men but men are just like me

I reek of sin, and it doesn’t matter how much I bath I can never wash it off.

So therefore I get down on my knees and pray.

For some sort of peace and some d**n understanding.