quante
For quante
He wasn't 100 up top,
But he weighed well over 200.
He claimed
he benched 300 max,
But he just adds more weight
To my shoulders
When he can't add any more to
his stomach.
He stays full
Of burgers and bull,
And sweats the last of the fruit punch
When he talks about how sweet
Victory tasted the night
He found out he was the father
Of a baby he couldn't take care of,
When in reality he couldn't take care
Of himself.
17 going on 11
Looking for a 9 to 5,
But he IS my 9 to 5
On the weekend.
He is somebody else's 9 to 5
Any other day,
A job well done If you feed him enough.
But
WHEN is ENOUGH ENOUGH
For him?
He doesn't know how much damage
He really causes towards me.
He'll never realize it,
But Sometimes,
He reminds me of my mother,
Sometimes,
He makes me feel like my little brother,
Sometimes,
He makes me feel like my big sister.
After telling him time and time again
To clean up after himself,
I HATE how he feels NOTHING
but his STOMACH!
He tried to make fun of how I speak.
The way I finesse English
To speak a little bit of slang.
You said you were the best rapper
In the world.
I say that's a lie.
What you need to do is
Get you a couple ice cubes
And a bottle of 40,
Fill it with a little bit of mc rem,
Get a rapper like Eazy-E,
To go make a CD
Only he'll get option A
And you'll get option B.
Because you need a Dr. Dre
To get you a pair of beats.
There were times he made me feel
Like I had no choice but to leave the house and go feel the metal metaphors locked behind my emotions.
The key,
Locked in the explicit language I held back against him when
He made knuckle sandwiches
out of my bloody knuckles.
He says he is sorry,
I don't believe him,
I don't believe his sorrow could ever match his hunger.
My smile travels upside down.
His lies travel down my spine
On a roller coaster,
Twisting through tissue and burnt out electrolytes.
The adrenaline kicking in
After he says
he isn't in this group home
For behavioral problems
When we clearly see the problem.
Instantly,
I lose 10 pounds of patience In a split second.
I snap like my spine does.
He already raised the bar,
And the candy bars.
The line was crossed so far,
He left his footprints in the shadows
Of whatever sanity I had left.
A nike sign imprinted on my head,
Like he wants to
walk in my shoes for a day.
He actually is walking in my shoes.
But little does he know,
I learned how to walk on my own.
I walk with a purpose,
He walks on nothing,
Because by myself
Im really 160 pounds.
With him on my back Im stress squared,
"Cruising down the street in my 6-4"
In the 614,
Living in an apartment,
With a
pretty
big
problem.
This poem is about:
Me
My community