fearful of my eyes, my mind, my lips spitting out someone else's secrets at any given second i could explode and everything within me the restrictions of tongue. i fear my imagination contemplating on which stone to cast upon the bay of my future.What memories to destroy on the line of my past.id like to forget my past the remains of what it felt like to be lost steady in a dark room feeling for my dignity because within in me it feels like destruction and corruption are pulling at the string of my dna separating me from meaning. Puzzled and dazed having hallucinations about euphoria. I can’t think straight. I’m thirsty for knowledge and I seem to be falling off of it, the ledge it's crumbling under my feet, pieces dissolving in my misunderstandings about something called love. Underestimating the meaning of such a word. Losing track of where i found it. Reaching for its place in my arms, captivated by the interpreted melody that everyone plays when they say, when they feel when they think they know “love”. But by misplacing my reasoning to be with you under these sheets while your eyes in mine and this night shared! The kiss on your lips as this night is shared!his hands on my body when this nights shared. Should i be scared?
Not knowing what i want to be. Couldn't decide if i want to be. consumed by darkness the sun no longer breaks through the clouds, the songs never get through to me…. so here comes to the time to start realizing that your life might actually end or the end of you life could be pretend but just to be safe I start writing vows for the person i wanted he was my bestfriend,important. Cause i heard about how sometimes you can regret what you didn't do then and you can't do now, it's to late there either dead or out of town. The knife is his hands firmly gripped over my throat the shots of his encrypted words suspended with this gun to my head and a knife on my throat, should i be scared?
Should I just Strip the correlation of my face to my name, I'll let you reconstruct an identity better fit for me.When you let people control who you want to be it changes your view on if that's how your suppose to be. Am i smart? Am i dumb? Can i be courageous? Is this right No, Is it wrong? Do i look ok? Hows my make-up? Covering our canvases with stereotypes and other peoples opinion on what pretty means. Whats the means to be pretty.I fear my own my capabilities, the me that made me a conscience so indulged in making others squirm the run down of maslow, we skipped needs to be safe to live or breathe what we really need is self esteem.Take my color as a context make it a confident incompetence. Rapping, singing, acting, sew; cook, clean, in fact I can throw…..I meaning everything that made me shaped me and molded me I can throw tantrums over mountains where birds refused to reach its peak over the words so sacred no voice continues to speak what should I be scared of, scared of being me? NO, it's people like me you should be scared you left free.