Wed, 10/07/2015 - 18:43 -- kvmrv.g

He had looks that could kill.

Eyes that could melt your soul.

A stare that locked you in.

And lips that only he himself, could possess.

He was like no other.

He wasn't just another brotha.

He was intelligent; an intellectual you could say.

He carried himself with confidence; kept his head in the books.

He did as was told, and women were far from his mind.

He was a man with dreams, who carried himself with such visions of triumph.

He carried himself with such conviction,

And while he was the subject of everyone's laughter,

They themselves could not see his quiet success shouting at them in the background. 

This poem is about: 
My community


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