I wish I could spit poetry. To recite word to inspire spiritually. To make imperial lines so they could hear me. And see from where I’m really coming from. Instead of writing down my struggles and pains cause that would take too long. I just want to write so y’all could follow along. Follow along to my words my steps so I may be more like God. No I’m not perfect but I plan to be more like Him. More like God. I say it twice so y’all could feel me. I say it twice to emphasize his principles. Making sacrifices to save my people. Shedding blood for the greater good. Giving love and kindness while nailed to wood. Suffering from pain but still able to show no distain. To suffer with a smile on my face cause I’d know where I’m headed. I’m heading up so I try to keep the corners of my face that way. People keep trying to pull it down so my feet will stay. Planted to the ground and nailed to the page of yet another book that would take me away from the looks of encouragement, of jealousy, all acts of brilliance, reality. Because life is so sickly so I shield myself with sickly breeds of human beings with magical powers and mystical things. Because I long to be separated from reality. Cause after a few struggles and pains the story gets boring. All I’m looking for is my character’s winnings. Cause at my beginning it was never a win or lose. The sky was the limit, I had all the careers to choose. Until one day I found out it was a ruse. Fat little girls can’t be dancers and I didn’t have no dancing shoes so I chose to dream again, to live and try to breathe again. At the age of ten that was a big deal for me. I’m glad at that age I could see what would lie ahead of me. After a while I blamed my mom for my ugly stamps. My labels my medals of low confidence. I used to blame the world for the loss of my innocence. But I had already learned what sex was at age eleven. I just wish I could have known what it does emotionally. And at that age all sex did was lower my self-esteem. By age 14 I traded the love of books and took up a mistress. Her name was Mary Jane and I held her frequently as I held pencils. (Do you love Mary Jane?) I was singing that song until I met what’s her name? I act like I forget but it was her that I gave my heart to in exchange. It wasn’t planned. She conned it from my chest when her kiss met the nipple of my breast and I experienced forbidden ecstasy. For she had the last name of the chick who was engaged to my daddy. While they were sucking and fucking we were fucking and ducking. Thought we was doing something real something special something worthwhile. We lasted for three years in a forbidden love canal. I was eighteen when I finally called it quits. For reason and mistakes we both faulted in. but my first real relationship was when I met this nigga CJ. I’d like to think I met him three ways. One time at church, another in front of my house, and when the city bus got off the freeway. It was on that bus when I first saw his face. Summer 2013 I was still seventeen I forget the date. But he made me beautiful without me offering my body. And at the time I was with Nicholas being naughty and at the same time going through a mild heart-breaking .For that day I wasn’t a self-entitled slut bucket. For one I was a lady that was meant to be courted. He fills my days with endless wonder. And I’m still looking for that Les Miserables scene to happen. But it’s passed fall and its leaking into winter. And I’d like to prolong that we are 9 months strong. Our beginning was funny because I lied to him. But I’m glad I did cause he said if I didn’t I wouldn’t have a home. Anyway I guess I lied to y’all too in my stories that are in my mind recorded. But I just wanted my sins to be documented. So you could see where I’m really coming from. To hopefully show y’all who’ve I’ve become. To show y’all reason why I follow God hoping to get followers like his son. I’m pretty sure there is more to this story than what I spoke of it. I wrote this some time ago in two sittings. But in the end I hope you see an inkling of the reasons why I spit. I spit because I want to up you spirits and to make poety worth listening.