For the Distorted Faces
Location
We hide behind a mask of lies
To keep the truth from waving "hello" and "goodbye"
But have you ever cried through blood shot eyes?
Hit after hit, on that emotional high
Have your lungs ever hurt so bad,
That each new breath taken was more horse than the last
While the harsh words give you whiplash
But you don't have physical wounds to prove,
All that you have been through
Blood shot eyes, bright blue
No air in your lungs, so you turn black and blue
And eventually the lies become the truth
Because you start to believe what they say and what it means
So it must be true if everyone is saying it
And I'm just praying that all this will be through
So I can get through tonight and live for tomorrow
Without my heart turning hollow
And I hide behind this mask of lies
So I don't have face what really lies on the outside
Reality is laced with cold embraces
And people who sport two, three, even four faces
Judgment based on our skin color and races
I hide so I can survive
But hints of the truth are provided through past actions and accusations
I hide because I am not who I seem to be
I am nothing like you,
And you are nothing like me
I do this to cope with an uncertain hope
That may or may not make its way to the mother land
Instead to some other land
Where my mind cannot exist
It ceases to be, and yes it seems to be
That I am nothing more than what a stack of hundreds is to the poor
And food bank meals
Stealing from the corner store
Nothing in our stomachs
The pain hurts to our cores
And moms main mission ain't to be in the kitchen
Or work two jobs to support her four kids
Nah she would rather live life to its fullest
Even when the look in her children's eyes shows the dullest
And daddy said he would be there if mama could cut her coke addiction
Her addiction to Vicodin prescriptions
But she can't, cause she's been hooked ever since Maloney was born
And coke was laced with Keisha,
Right after Malia was born
And her soul was sworn to the devil
And trust me when I say each of her faces ,
Have been too all seven of Hell's levels
But isn't that the pot calling the kettle black
Her faces provide no sort of truth
Instead a ruthless reality without a light at the end of the tunnel
Because for every stumble and tumble
A scar is added to her face
It's now a distorted figure that is far more fake than it is real