Dangerous Streets

CATEGORY

life

I woke up one day and realized that I had a lot of hate in my heart

It was within my blood, my thoughts weighed heavy on this 

As my tears scorched my face, too hot to wipe away

Too angry to justify my reasons for this hate

So therefore I picked up this smile 

And I placed it upon my face

Though my eyes spoke its truth my mouth refused to vocalize 

Although my hands wanted to react my arms refused to initiate

Yet still I walked with hate, I wore it, like I wore my flesh

It was me and I was clearly it

I would say that I was taught this hate, or maybe I was just lucky enough to inherit it 

And if that were the case then of course I must respect it 

Because I mean why would I question the hate that I have within my heart? 

My ancestors had to have had a legitimate reason to hate

They had to have had a reason to do what I could not physically do

To hate what they were seeing so much that they had to get up and do something about it

Since I was clearly taught the right way

Right?

Mamas hands reached out and pulled me up

Wrapped within her arms is where I felt most comfortable 

As I shed tears of centuries of pain

Hymns blasting within my ears 

Lessons to be feared dancing swiftly within my head

Life telling me “Boy I am here to teach you a valuable lesson.”

As I walk down dangerous streets with deaf ears, I catch cliched purses and slurs as I walk on by

The goal is to get home 

Or rather try to make it there the best way that I can 

Here I am burying my feet within the imprints of the past

Shedding blood, sweat and tears just for an ounce of sympathy

An opportunity that I am only going to be rewarded a quarter of just so I can feel somewhat good about what I am bringing back to my residence 

Since I am not competent enough to do great things because it is not within my DNA

Unless I pay the price of selling off my soul for lavish things 

To please the world is to go against everything that I can possibly think of

“Why do right when doing right is exactly whats killing us?”

I wish that I could wipe these words from out of my thoughts as I cry within these leathered hands and ask the Lord what was your purpose?

Why is there more hate than sympathy?

Yet still to this day there are no questions to my answers so I stand back up and lean more onto my teachings 

To hate you is to love you and to love you is to despise you

I can spend my entire life trying to rationalize your ways and teach you that your hate is not going to break me 

It is not going to stop me from walking down these dangerous streets or prevent me from lending a helping hand

If you fall I will in fact be there to help pick you up

And you may very well turn me away 

Spit at my feet and call me everything but my name

But I am still going to be here

Because until that day come when I must leave here 

I will continue to endure because I still have something to live for

While here In these dangerous streets