Where do I come from?
I could tell the same tales
Of trips to hell and back
And the tattered sidewalks with cracks
And the crack heads
These streets never seem to lack
But for once
I don’t feel like talking about that
Instead I’ll tell you about my mother and father
Who bore and raised 2 sons and 5 daughters
Who bought a house and built a home
For us to dwell in
And in these walls the stories were written
That I’m telling
They’re the ones that taught me
That failing was not an option
And I’m opting to uplift them
Because they’re the roots to the tree that is me
They’re my walls, roof, and ceiling
They’re the source of my pain and my healing
I feel like trying something new
I feel like taking you all on a walk down positivity
Where the walls aren’t littered with graffiti
And sirens don’t sound through the city
I’d rather speak of my skin the color of ebony
That speaks of strength of beauty
This is where I come from
a beauty for sure....and a proud one who is proud of parents....lovely....and keeep it up
ReplyDeleteYES. uplift.
ReplyDelete