The POWER with your HANDS
Location
Aggressive,dangerous,pain,anger,frustrated,disrespected
all gather into one fist of POWER
How fighting seems to be the ONLY solution
How the emotions you feel makes it worth your wild to bring heartbreak
to a person who dropped your heart
When their laying down in fear and useless to defend themselves make
you have control in a life in your hands
the pride of your ego thinks you won something wild
But the lost of breath from punches makes you remember all the stuff you
couldn't handle in life was token to a complete stop
The silence of the words broken enough to explode
as you look at that person only replaced it's body into your soul
That person you though you were beating up was only yourself
the hurt that got handed to you only made you return the favor back into your own hands
There's no winners because you both stand as losers
being able to fight doesn't make people respect you from fear
being able to fight doesn't bring you strength but makes you break down weak
being able to fight doesn't heal all the scares someone added into your heart
it cuts you deeper
now you might feel satisfied but a few days maybe months
someone will try you again
then fights and fights only lead you dragged with no mercy
either the grave or behind bars
but they need to pay for what they did ..
only leaving you with the consequences
walking away from a fight doesn't mean you are scared or weak
it means you rather walk another day then get tangled up into
a life you could have saved yourself from
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preach sista
violence is becoming the remedy to all solutions
use your hands to think, mediatate, not fight
you're right, use your hands to grab you dreams and not cop pleas in court cases
another excellent poem
You said I had a gift, but you have an extraordinary mist that coats your words that make them stick. See I can go on and on about how I relate to this but one thing must be said, your totally right. Those hands people clinch together to form a weapon aren't meant to destroy the atoms in another being's face. See I've seen the hands of an old man and I could run my mind down his lines and scars and non would come up of a fight. Yet he did have one thing that kept showing up, the imprint of his hands being clinch because he was being beaten; the hands of hard work and slavery.
See our black culture has been through a lot, even the white, Indian, Hispanic, you name it but in the beginning; we only hand room for the hands of love. Clinch the hands of another, as we played in each other's eyes as we glazed; we saw misfortune but we had each other's hands to guide our children through the rough patches, falls, and disappointment. But people we can't fight anymore, its been enough of that, it's time for all of us to take out a book and read or write some poetry.
Oh and keep up the work, just some great stuff here. Oh and I did get inspired by the way, makes me want to write some more.