This is compilation of my deeepest thoughts, my shallowest thoughts, my life, and my enlightenment.

A Poet's in the Corner: Case of the Next

He kept forcing me to listen to why I need to be different,
Without my consent.
And instead of considering the stupidity of what his words meant,
My soul literally bent.

I kept thinking his love was heaven sent
Part of the plan
I took his words as gold and hung on every one
Because he was my man

And I sit back and think I was a stupid girl
Trapped in a parallel reality

Because when I look into the mirror and analyze what I see
That old reflection, it was never really me

But I keep sojourning for the truth
Hoping I left some things with my youth
But, was it that that old reflection wasn't me,
Or just a spoof?

I was trying to be me for him, but not me for me
Trying to fulfill every man I met's fantasies and not being me complete

And I think it was the relationship with my dad that lead to this path
Because even though I never use him as an excuse, I did the math

When you never feel like you're enough and meet some man,
And he's tells you your beautiful, it sounds so grand

And the relationship you had with that other man, the one who played a part in birth
Never did anything but make you feel like sh*t and never showed your worth

And you can't tell if that "sh*t" was an open cry
For someone to help him retrieve the life he had in the midst of that life's goodbye

So you give him the benefit
You love him, he's gone, that's the end if it

But his legacy is tarnished
Unless you add some garnish

And you hope you never get treated that way again because that's over
To find a man that will lift you up and hold you

Instead your just a girl trapped into a bullsh*t cycle
His name was Explain but his name was still Michael, my father

And you couldn't even find a man with his good qualities
Instead a caricature of what you thought you've seen

And I'm not writing this poem to be mean,
I'm just saying I now realize when I've found a king for this queen.

No comments:

Post a Comment