she looks like a star, but only on camera.
glance into her eyes,
the keys to her soul, and
you see that everything she aspires to be
she doesn’t see.
look beyond her luscious lips
that draw back to reveal the joy her smile evokes.
past her voluptuous figure that stimulates
‘love’ from men and envy from women.
peer past the compliments
written on her face; the same ones that she washes off
at night—where there are no cameras.
delve deep into her bare, naked self;
explore the pain and fever that she
braids into her hair.
trace the regret and festered feelings
that her stretch marks scream out.
Queen-she deserves the title, but
she rejects the remedies that the world gives while
she nurses the wounds by them.
look deep and you see that
her cure is her pride and self-esteem,
or rather lack of it.
once you’ve seen past all of this,
you can tell that she’s been crying all night,
drinking all summer, praying for her happiness
hoping she recovers.
i don’t like posting my writing on here because i never feel comfortable enough, but i should, it’s MY blog… anyways here’s an old piece..
once you get rid of all the negative baggage in your life, life is fantastic. if you truly want something work hard to get it, don’t whine and complain about not having it. don’t bite your tongue for no one. never feel sorry for yourself-“only assholes do that.” nothing, nada, ziiippp is more important than family. never buy anything from a flea market without bargaining. change all your passwords, they’re too easy and your sister will log in to them.
Real niggas. ALL day! Just me. By myself. On the block. Holdin it down. Gun in my waist. Straight face. All day. Not a game. In jail. By myself. 1 bed. No pillow case. 1 pillow. Didnt nobody write me. It was early. Woke up. Went back to sleep. Took a nap. You ever go night night nigga