PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The cross I bear,

Is the same one you’ll be nailed to.

And you are reading my depressing poems;

But maybe they are my triumphant poems,

Because these are the poems I’ve lived through.

It’s kind of sad, because they’ll expect

The next Jay-Z to be the same as

This Jay-Z.

Maybe you’ll expect the next Patrick

To give a fuck about you,

Like this Patrick did.

I know I said you are dead to me,

But I’m still carrying your corpse in my heart.

I’m not saying I can see ghosts,

But I have seen the damage they cause.

I cannot say I was ever raised,

Because the wolves who took me in,

Didn’t raise me, they shepherded me.

They were read y to go in for the kill,

When the time was right.



My best friend’s brother was killed

Outside of my front door.

That night I thought about his death,

Until the cockroaches running across

My mother’s face distracted me.

We couldn’t afford a couch

So she put her blanket on an old coffee table,

And that’s what we sat on.

She found a man who loved her,

So she brought him into our house,

And it was their house.

In the end this man,

Could not love her.

So when she didn’t come home at night,

It’s because she needed someone to love her.



At this point it not a matter of if or if not,

I have it in me to kill you.

I’m going to nail you to the cross,

And you can find out what happens.