Every morning she whispers in my ear.

“Morning handsome” in that golden voice is what i hear.

To open my eyes to see the most beautiful goddess. 

Skin the color of brown sugar.

Hair as long as tree veins and soft as cotton.

Smile as beautiful as snowflakes falling in the winter time.

But the thing that caught me the most about her was her eyes.

Whenever i looked into her hazel eyes it was as i looked into the universe. 

Every morning she puts her arms over my shoulders and give me a kiss.

She always has tea and breakfast ready on the table.

Eat and chill before work was our everyday.

Just to past time we would crack jokes and make funny faces.

We always dread the moment it got close to leave to work.

Cause she only really seen me when we woke up.

Soon as i walk out that door she chokes up.

Everyday i wonder why.

It cause our love is a dream of beautiful bliss.

This is poetry in motion.

Even if you don’t feel it. 

You gonna fucking feel it.

Everyday i see my people target they people.

And here i am stuck with confusion.

On how we let this happen how we came to this moment at hand.

We was once all sisters and brothers under one tree.

Now we all divded fighting for some leaves.

We once fought the same fight.

But now we fighting whos’s dark and who’s light.

There was a time where all we wanted was the simple things in life.

I guess that upgraded to wanting everything in life. 

We settling for materialistic shit but wont fight against the surpression of the government and the stars and the strips. 

I guess we still slaves huh?

If its not to one thing its to another.

Woke up this morning with the simple taste for success.

Looked up at the clouds spelling out what i need to do.

Thought i heard a bird say “get ya shit together”.

Or was that just my inner being saying “i know you can do better”.

Blinded by the wants ignoring all the needs i just want the life thats called the american dream.

Or is it.

Cause the life i see is far from what they portray on tv.

Dreams of wanting to be rich and famous subdued by the wants of my reality.

I rather settle for wealth and a personal life.

Cause nothings personal when you become famous right?

Instead of being a random person on the street you become a new target for defeat.

But all i’m really asking for is the little corner piece of the bread called success.

Beautiful girl self absorbed in herself.

To the world she conceited but to her she confident. 

Measuring her worth not by the inner beauty but by the outer beauty and the wealth in her pockets.

Never had a man cause to her they worthless.

But Beautiful girl please stop with the bullshit.

Hiding all the scars with makeup so no one can see the cuts you made to yourself.

Acting like everything is good but it really aint.

The hurt in your eyes explains it all.

The rapes, The beatings, The days of starvation  

The fights, The tears, The nights you was scared. 

Hiding from the judgement the world would bestow on you so instead you put on this cover up.

Stop being a prisoner to yourself and let youself free to experience the world cause not everything is there to hurt you dear beautiful girl.