Fuck that bitch who I used to care about
Fuck that bitch because she’s still someone I care about
Even though I really shouldn’t because she clearly don’t care about me
She didn’t switch it up, clearly didn’t prepare around me
I feel like a sucker and shit, maybe I am.
What’s worse? Being called an Uncle Tom or being chased by Uncle Sam?
If I shared all my thoughts, you’d probably think I’m crazy
If you believed all the rumors, you’d think I had all the ladies
I’m something of a rarity, a 90’s baby with no babies
I don’t trust a lot of people because people have been shady
People don’t really know me, they know what I choose to share
Because if I share something too “real”, will my “real” friends be there?
Like if I told people I used to be suicidal? What would be the reaction?
While everyone separated in cliques, I couldn’t figure out my faction
I’m not the type to wear my heart on my sleeve, not into that type of fashion
Wanted to live life in the fast lane but I’m the one that ended up crashing
I’m better now but I still have days where I think what could have been
I almost died when I was 6, nothing afterward is what should have been
Young, black, and gifted is kind of a hard life to leave though
Too many people I used to fuck with, gave me the heave ho
Sometimes I need my space, so the spotlight I sometimes leave though
Watching who I kick it with, hang with dogs, might get fleas though
Sometimes I wonder about my own funeral, I know that’s weird to say
But I just want to know when I’m gone, what do people really say?
But people rarely get the flowers when they still have a chance to smell them
People rarely hear the truth when it’s still beneficial to tell them
Fuck it, I get curved a lot. It sucks to say but it’s real shit
I need to work on myself because it’s hard to find someone to be real with
People will cut you open then prescribe the medicine to heal with
But why is everyone proud of being numb & saying they don’t feel shit?
Hell, I wish I wasn’t affected by the things that I’m affected by
Hell, I wish I had a six pack but I’m not ready to give up apple pie
I’m trying to improve myself but I don’t know what I should work on first
Maybe I wouldn’t get curved so much if I finally figured out to flirt
Why I gotta be attracted to all the grimy women who’s involved in hella dirt?
Why does sometimes trying harder only makes everything worse?
Why can’t my grandmother remember who I am?
Everytime that happens, my heart gets broken more than a promise man
I’m angry at the fact I shared some secrets with a certain person
People will judge the new you off of the older versions
I still hate being vulnerable, I don’t know if it will ever change
After I share certain things, people will not see me the same
I guess you can go home again, ask LeBron James
I just want the peace of mind to do my own thing
I can brainstorm at any time, better grab an umbrella
The clock is about to strike midnight, will I turn out like Cinderella?
Will I do anything that is worth anyone to remember?
I’m sorry, I’m venting. Time to close this open letter.
Ryan Nichole Leary on Deeper than the Surface B… Shirley Jones on Waste My Time 2016 Jay Colby on No Concept, Just From the… Ciara on Take ‘Em to Church Ponderer_With_A_Pen/… on Take ‘Em to Church
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- September 2013
- July 2013