Impression
Born in a less than ideal situation.
Having to find a way to elevate when you only see devastation.
Learning to be a better person when you only see questionable foundations.
And don’t you dare think differently.
You’ll be singled out and shamed.
Stay in a child's place is all they paint until it’s stained.
What you speak will cross everyone's ear frames.
Can’t even be confined to a parent.
Your feelings will be displayed on a canvas and they wonder why our trust vanished.
Now opening up is so phantom.
Their lack of loving, patience, and directions makes us less equipped for future relations.
Choosing yelling over communication.
Leaving us with no understanding of our transgressions.
Not knowing who we become is a reflection of their lack of preparation.
Forcing us to grow up too early.
Not mentally but with responsibilities.
Hindering our possibilities.
Encasing us in their own Insecurities.
Highlighting similarities from a parent with ongoing hostilities.
Basing our capabilities on theirs.
That ain’t fair.
We ain’t ask to be here, we’re products of two toxic pairs who don’t know how to actually care.
Ain’t saying the love ain’t there but there’s certain ways a child needs to be love that parents are unaware.
Purest
Your the purest skin but treated like the latter.
And black man we scattered.
My perception of us has shattered.
We suppose to be kings who uplift our queens but lately we been leading them to disaster.
And all I hear is laughter.
Jokes and games like we all wasn’t in chains.
We should be put to shame but we can never see the errors in ways.
We’re men, this how we’re train.
We received praise for what slay.
Never taught restraint.
How to deal with pain.
This is probably why we reciprocate in harsh ways.
Projecting it on our beautiful reflections.
Choosing lighter complexion cause they don’t call us out on our lack of direction.
I will never understand this disconnection.
I will never get the lack rage.
This boil the blood in my veins.
How we allow them to stand alone through all their agony and pain.
Down play all their accolades cause we hate to see them be great.
Hate see them achieve more than what we can equate.
What we bring to plate would deflate any mate who choose to engage.
Instead of upgrade we display hate to heal our ego that’s already in fragile state.
Then when we flip the tape and blame it on their traits.
The way we manipulate, irritates.
It’s time for a change of pace.
Colorist or preferences
Hiding behind what they prefer
Knowing deep down they can’t stand someone of a less shade.
This goes back when we were slaves or when we were in caves.
When our pigment protected against the suns rays.
As the sun caressed our skin with elegance.
The glow of gods and goddesses.
Maybe they hated it.
So they punish.
Bashed it until we lost pride if it.
Losing our ancestral essence.
We were Kings and Queens but now they only see us as good in the sheets.
Or anger at its peak.
It’s no in between.
Never see what’s underneath.
We’re human beings.
Regardless of what they see.
Midnight
At night is when the darkness come to flirt.
It’s jealous of your joy.
It hopes to destroy with no remorse.
In torch your thoughts.
Exposing your faults.
Depleting your source.
Your endorphins running thin.
Walls closing in.
These mental wars has no end.
Want to scream for help but no one understand.
Nor do they care to give a damn.
This pain is in command.
Now you’re sitting in a pool of your own sweat.
Living through all your regrets.
Within yourself you digress.
Your stress take center stage.
Putting on a show for the ages.
Taking a bow for your devastation.
Lost
Living in the present but stuck in the past.
Reminiscing of the time we had but these memories are only dreams.
You was gone before they can be.
Gone with the wind but I hear you in the breeze.

Even though I can’t remember how you sound.
Being your son, I’m proud but it comes with a lot.
Your image is splattered across my life and I fear that I can’t complete the portrait.
I look just like you but I can’t be you.
I’m shackled to you cause I’m a product of you.
I struggle to step out of your shadow cause you’re my light even in the darkness.
I wanna shine for you.
Fragile
I know you’ve been hurt.
Years of your emotions being dispersed.
Hardly handled with care.
All your fears being amplified from a significant that’s suppose to crystallize your worth.
Instead they impede your growth.
Leading you on when they have an unquenchable thirst.
Dragging your feelings through the dirt while they plant seeds all across the earth.
Soul ties from holes you never been expose to.
Now you’re all vulnerable.
Hiding behind a blunt or a few.
Taking shots to escape the view.
Blacking out so you can’t feel what you been through.
Your pain is visible.
I can see it all in your eyes.
It’s okay, you let it out.




We’re so evolved but so primitive.
Powerful but still so broken.
A part of us is still stolen but it’s like we chosen to forget.
Masking it with hate and anger.
Our spirit is in danger.
Corrupted by different pigments or higher shades.
We are caged.
Not with bars but in our minds.
Boundaries higher than the Everest climb.
They would hate to see us at our prime so they attacked our pride.
Demoralize.
Then cast a gaze over our eyes.
And we think we’re alright cause we have fabric from different lands or material from deep within the land.
Unknown that we’re in quicksand without a branch .
Anxiety
Anxiety, enlighten me.
Why are you always attacking me?
When I’m at my highest, you bring me down to my lowest.
I fall to pieces.
My thoughts in shambles.
Inside me, uneasy.
Please take it easy.
You been apart of me for so long but do me so wrong.
You’re so toxic and you don’t even hide it.
Proud to belittle me since I was little me.
I want to hide with in me but I’m so silly, that’s were you always meet me.
You’re so needy.
Becoming more and more greedy.
Appearing when I make appearance.
Room full of people and I see you glaring.
Waiting for my emotions to start flaring.
I wish we can start sparring, I’m tired of this feeling.
I need some healing.
Endless Cycle
You hurt me and I hurt the next.
It’s how the game goes.
It flows with no remorse.
Leaving hearts in parts.
All out of sorts.
Love is an art but pierced in the process.
Everyone moving on without healing from the ex, hurting everybody next.
It’s an endless cycle; different variables.
Who Am I ?
Poisoned by the bonds that ties.
Your inner self is so shy.
Hiding behind a culture’s eyes.
If you don’t follow the dotted lines, you get the evil eye.
You conform cause your faults are magnified.
Tired of hearing your own cries, you find a mask to disguise.
Your identity losing supply.
Who I am?
Ha. And in the process you become grateful your real life friends understand you're actually not a total whack job.
Writers are scary because we’ll take personal trauma and think, "Hmm… what if this happened to my fictional characters but worse?"
It doesn't matter what I'm writing, there is a 99% chance my birds are acting as my beta readers from one or both shoulders.
The other 1% of the time they're interrupting my workflow by shitting on the laptop screen, which leads to me going to the kitchen for a wipe and subsequently reminds me I haven't eaten or drank any water in 10 hours and should probably do that. So...helping?