Truth is.....

Hey, you got a minute?

I forgive you........

Details are minute and at this point moot....

I could recall a million things but that would defeat the purpose...

To forgive is to forget, and we've been made to believe that it was ok to semi-hold a grudge...

That it was valid to glorify our hurt and misfortunes at the expense of others...

How can you provide what you don't know to give?

How can you be in a place you don't know exists?

I never accounted for your losses and insecurities only the ones you helped create in me....

Now that I've grown I can clearly see....

You lived a life of disappointment and just as much pain as me...

I wanted you to be superman, just as you wanted him to be too...

You were 6 with a baseball mitt he never threw into, that hurts...

So I forgive you... Not for what you haven't done....

But, I forgive you for what you thought you failed at...

Because you didn't...

And you are superman... Just not the one in the comic...

You are a super man who did what he knew, and for that you're still super...

Just the kind that takes some getting used to...

I forgive you....

Daddy don't leave, Momma I love you...

Why? Why... WHY! Back to adolescence... Unanswered questions morph into immature interpretations and assumptions.. Which matures into adult child(ishness)... Saturated ignorance, backed by lingering pain.... All attempts at love are slain... Never knowing where the root lies, or lied... Cause what you tell yourself just may be a lie... Or falsification of the reality of what's the real issue... You react the same no matter the venue... Now you're a stereotype, a statistic, a perpetual representation of what they always said you'd be... Roots, apples, and trees... Where'd you fall? Far? Still looking for answers... Cause those "I love you's" "I'm proud's", even the hugs and kisses... Are still missed... But that child is only a child once... So then the pain doesn't go any further, just deeper...  FFT... 

Ode to memories....

Things grandma used to say... Never made sense, but you didn't forget.... The plates she set aside for you just incase... The money she snuck in your hand and winked... The whoopin's she stopped... That hug, awww man that hug... The Mac-n-cheese.... The salt and pepper hair(mostly salt though).. The recipes... The lectures... The old songs she sang to herself... The things you got away with that she never spoke of... The love, When it left with her to heaven... Or, when it stayed... "I miss you". 

"Bars"

Gold, chains, restraints... A lack of gain, when that's the only goal.. Always... You start knowing just the shell and not the meaning or depth of perception... It's reality isn't of importance because you've been TAUGHT to be bigger, while your mental capacity and physical makeup is already gargantuan in comparison to your oppressors...  Shhhhh, walk away, be inconspicuous, be seen not heard.... But they don't tell you that you won't be SEEN as an equal... Ever, just that you can try... Try... Try. And fucking TRY again... Ignore your growing pains that come after puberty, the ones that hit harder, shape more than your pectoral muscles... What makes you strong is also your weakness, it's what they will use to control you not being BETTER... Than them, ironically...  Institutionalization of a black man better known as "an answer to fear"... What are you taught is the ONLY thing you should fear? FFT

Ace of spades...

Reservations for failure... From two to one, back to two... Separate ways but on the same hurt path... Next attempts fail because of the residue of pain, neither has grown enough to accept blame... A compilation of more failures and games, while only losses are what's gained... Subpar effort IS a hundred percent as far as it's concerned, cause love isn't real unless you believe in it and are willing to learn... Now realization is always seemingly too late and after the fact, full of apologies and too late try's... Remnants of "fuck it" become dominant.... Is it worth another shot?  Then I met you... To be continued...

The Motion..

At the point of admittance but not acceptance... It still hurts... It is fresh.. New, ironically... The details of what led to the ending are so vivid you can still taste what you ate that day... You can remember the smells from the environment... The strength of the wind... The color of the eyes of the only person who gave you smile that day, unbeknownst to your shattered heart... You give yourself excuses to remain strong, not to be seen in a vulnerable state, mistaken for being weak... Can you cry? Your psyche won't let you... Weakness is for those who accept it they say... But those broken pieces of heart can't fix themselves... Insecurities and questions commence in maturation, also ironic... Being swept under the rug makes this a means for repetitiveness... Knowing and acknowledging weakness is a means of knowing what strength really is... Be weak sometimes, and then grow... FFT

On the contrary...

"Why?" Asked the waning heart... Such a frivolous question given the frequency of these types of visits by "heartbreak".... You change the outside, the look, the venues in which you hang, even change some friends... To no avail you finish back where you started and asking the afore mention question. Placing blame on all but the person in the mirror.... The absence of self awareness feeds into insecurities that are cultivating in the repetitiveness of your course of actions and lack thereof, ironically. How can you give so much to factors that lead to the demise of your mind and it's notions for progress, but not stop to care for yourself and interests? Selfishness is often a negative connotation carrying description... But when you love you, loving someone else isn't a task, it becomes natural... So the real question should be "What about me?" asked by you, to you.... FFT