PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I don't just rhyme words- I speak the truth,

I seek the youth that you ignore when they speak to you.

20 years young but I've already learned to seek the truth,

Tired, beaten and hungry- But it's pity you can't sink your teeth into.

And so I sink into what is commonly called "the zone",

Cold and alone as I dig into my mental to find my home.

Poet's a rolling stone- I lay my hat on the corner of syllable,

And I lay my head on empty promises that are no longer refillable.

It's pitiful what we go through and the lengths we go to, to be heard,

You see I'm come from a place where white boy's use the "N" word.

Without the thought of being injured- Unless you add an "-er",

Cuz what we are can't be defined as being white and black,

We enter your sight in packs- I write in black ink,

But it's laced with white pride- But if I ever wore shirt that said,

"White and proud" in the same sentence I'd be dead.

The thought floats in my head because I know it absurd,

I begin to get offended, but then I remember- It's just words.

The same kind that I rhyme when I'm trynna express a thought,

So I understand the pride in the achievement for the battle their ancestors fought.

You see I don't just rhyme words- I seek the truth,

I try to reach the youth- Tell of my own struggles to speak to you.

Whether or not you listen is really your decision,

My mission in life is not to never be forgotten- It's to be remembered.

And so I try to touch lives with a heart that's colder than December.

Held back by my own selfish thoughts.

Who gives a damn about a man who's given up on his self,

Poverty stricken, but if thoughts were a currency, I'm up to my eyes in wealth.

In the hood you don't die from health problems- You die from lack of choices,

And no one ever notcies our cries- We seemingly lack the voices.

But I voice these opinions as a white male from a black place.

But if you're even trynna hear me you'd see thatr these feelings lack race.

'Cuz I don't give a fuck what color you are- White black or asian,

All I ask is that you listen- We're running out of patience.

I'm not asking you to help me- I'm asking you to save them,

'Cuz what the hood has made them has them believing that they're made men.

And I don't need my nephew following that same trend- I'm trynna save him.

Make him into the person I've always wanted to be- And I know it starts with me.

And so I write with a fury and a fire burning in my heart,

Trynna out run the dark without putting out the spark.

I don't strive to be legend, I strive to be an inspiration,

Replacing my fear, with a hustler's mentality,

Filling pages with words just trying to make sense of this reality.

Striving to be a man and persistantly chasing the truth,

You see, I don't just rhyme words I speak for the youth.

The voices you ignore when they're speaking to you.

But it won't happen again- I pick up a pen and this ink I bleed,

If you won't listen that's fine- I'll just force you to read.