Truth is I don’t think you can relate ...I wake up everyday just to stare at a face in disgrace and I’m a basket case so carry my casket case and remember me and remember my pain. Truth is it’s not easy to erase things like the scars on my arm. My pain to you is going to be okay if you’d say so... just to reassure my ways but,  let’s say the same child walks and remains bearing the growing pains in a place where love grows a new face everyday...life changes but people remain the same. You look at me and tell me that I’m the future of today when tomorrow isn’t promised, I promised to be honest when life was at its hardest but my heart is used to this , You call it the weight of the world when it’s the weight of a brick breaking bridges we’ve been building from the beginning just to get an early ending and you wonder why our lives are ending and our race is depleting and we defeat the purpose with shooting and killing

. Truth is I might be guy who never knew my father, he raised his daughter and caught her before she ended up being like the rest of the monsters. Memories haunt us and stereotypes take shape... they clothed us in cases and it doesn't matter what our race is no... From our head to our toes our skin shows regardless we all have our ghettos but it gets old when the blame game becomes cold. Everyday there's a new truth and the latest lie but I'd hate to be ostracized by eyes who can't even love  themselves when they don't love time. If there's anything I ask is for you to care. For you to change the ways you think about yourself in space . Truth is it's easy to make room for growth before you choose  to say no. You become the seed of hope that people will always know . Your pain takes a toll if you allow it to unfold and greet foes who just wanna see you 6 feet below the bar of hope.