THE POETRY HOE

This thing called poetry..


It..haunts Me.


As I lay in the bed..


Words swirling around in My head.


Sometimes it too much to handle.


My life.. so dark..


Poetry... My candle.


All around My house.. you'll find pages and pages.


Poems that will outlast... the ages


Even as I write this..I'm thinking of the next.


Always trying to do better than My best.


I even have a poem ready for when I meet GOD.


After I spit My flow..


He's gonna give Me that "I feel you" nod.


Poetry is like a disease..


I create a paragraph with just one sneeze.


But all these words falling in My Brain...


Like huge drops of rain...


And if I can't express Myself...


I'll go quietly insane.


But I keep on writing cause..that's all I know.


Poetry is My Pimp.


and I'm...


its Hoe.


E.c. 201209 05

FOUNDATION CRACKED

Maybe its my 6' 5” frame. Or the meaning of My name. Maybe its cause I've hidden feelings way too long. But I'm not that strong.

I'm not... that strong.

Maybe its because I always smile. Or..because I'll go that extra mile.  Maybe its because I try to stay positive..and avoid being negative.

Maybe its because I continue to give and give.

People seem to think I'm a rock..but they are so wrong..

I'm not that strong.  

I'm not that strong.

I get wet when it rains.

When I'm done wrong.. I feel great pain.

And if you look past the gleam in My eyes.. You see... My Soul cry.

Cause I'm not that strong.

I'm not.. that strong.

Maybe its because My lips stay silent.

They don't speak of My torment.

In silence I live.

Love and support.. I constantly give.

And instead of treating Me right...

this world... seems to treat Me wrong.

So I stand at the top of the Mountain and Proclaim..

I'm not that strong...

I

am

not

that

strong.

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