Depresso Mode A Black Poet’s Memoirs

Hey Ill Talk To You Later My Moms Home…

I wish she loved me for who I was and not what she wanted me to be.

She claimed to love me as she put those scars upon me.

To see my emotions bleed was all she really wanted to see.

The dark times set in as the walls seem to box me in a package of sin.

The blood streaming down my face while I try to swim through the currents of life but I can keep up this pace.

The thoughts swirl around me like whirlpools as I think about the halls that haunted me from grade school.

I looked for the hand to reach down and pull me out but all I got was a face of disgust no reason to not understand why Im full of doubt.

They say birds learn how to fly as they
e dropped out of the nest by the mother who is supposed to save them before they crash if they can fly and recover.

Trapped in the prison system due to my inability to find someone who truly wanted to listen.

Watching me drift in silence, till I grew old and had the nerve to ask where the time went. Almost as if they weren the ones on which all my happiness was uselessly spent.

I watched everyone else spread their wings and fly away, while it was me with whom the pain had to stay.

I was hoping Id meet my guardian angel, but it seems like even their divine wings by my mind got tangled.

Im watching them sink deeper and deeper until they fall, and once they do Ill have truly lost it all.