Assassinate My Character

I wrote this while my eye was twitching, momma said it was stress

She asked me what was wrong, I said I got a lot on my chest

Like a woman who needs a breast reduction or a bench press that needs a spot

As soon as you start to feel well, everyone wants to take their shot

I ain’t the American dream, I’m america’s nightmare

Everything they don’t want us to be, I’m right here

Had people I thought cared for me, stab me right in the back

I tell the truth, they turn and twist it with alternative facts

I can’t win, it seems like I can only hold off the losing

My demons tryna beat my ass, let me hold off the bruising

People ask me what’s wrong & I can’t even articulate it properly

I feel all these people are watching me, hate on me & don’t even talk to me

Assassinate my character, I mean even Jesus was crucified

They’d probably kill me and make it look like a suicide

Tricky bastards, I have lost all faith in the masses

Obsessed in my progress, but it’s moving slow like molasses

Been in a rut, so I had to pull something out the sleeves

People throwing shade as long as 50 trees

Wondering why these folks won’t let me be

Stressed out, just the whole world cannot see

I make things happen. That’s what I do every single day and night

I ain’t even gonna lie, I’m not always doing what is right

But it’s probably what’s best for me, out here crafting recipes

Trying to plan centuries, dodging penitentiaries

Is this what life is meant to be? Are folks supposed to not accept a G?

They even crucified Jesus, so what else can I expect from thee?

People are either gonna love you or hate you, and it’s on them to decide

You can influence them with actions, but they’re gonna choose if they’re down to ride.

Snakes in the grass, that’s why you keep the grass short

Acknowledge that you’re winning, they call you a bad sport

Backhanded compliments, hiding the pain inside the pleasure

Hiding the hating inside the “lecture” that’s supposed to make you better.

You ask? I’m down for whatever. When the son shines? The reign’s over

Personality needs renovating, extreme makeover

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This entry was posted in 20 somethings, Creativity, honesty, Poems, poetry, self-help, venting and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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