18 Years Later
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A center-point, balanced or challenged...
tired of feeling unworthy, tired of being
different than you, all I ever needed was
a time to be alone, & I'm here now...
where to go from here, blurred vision not
very clear, so I continue in hope of a
better day tomorrow, without so much
sorrow, or even without the air I borrow.
What would I do? 18 years later, the
memories haunt, so I attempt to verbally
flaunt... before then, I still had the
standard about her, not to mention the
dagger of his back to me, in chains,
shackles, free, to be me, arrests & a few
vests, tuxedo to cover the emotional
bruises, where the car cruises, a few
years at least, Philly & back, too many
times, a poor man's dream, a prophet's
nightmare, with their stares, so I can step
it up to a glare, in resentment, & to
present it.
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