They say the devil is always busy
I assume he's the owner of doubt
I'm only human so late at night
I wonder off into the future
and try to find my failure instead
of what I believe is my success
monkey on my back
responsibility on my shoulders
even through hell the angel on earth
that is my mother tells me
all things are possible through christ
still I can't understand
how I can look at her without tears
bearing down my cheeks
how I carried the weight of a man
but never lost hold of my childhood
learned my life lessons
without the aid of a classroom
while every razor bump told me
to go with the grain
I refused to listen and still came out clean
statistics show that a young black boy
would turn out to be
just another jail cell filler
especially with a father who could buy
a nintendo 64 but couldn't find the time
to raise his own boy
I knew my roll long before
the musk of foul armpit
slapped me across the face
I was the man of the house
but still my mama
kept me in my place
raising a leader
in a war from pole to pole
where slangin' firearms
and niggas killin' niggas
is an everyday casualty
the shackles are gone
but mental slaves are
at an all time high
like endless bad bitches
and an all time high
are the only things
I should give a fuck about
so instead I sit in trees not roll them
and dream to Watch The Throne
"No Church in The Wild"
or some song no one ever heard of
thinking to myself
*could I be the kanye west of poetry?*
yet another tasteless metaphor
©2011 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.
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*I'm very proud to say that I am a part of the amazing poetry anthology,
What is Inspiration: Thoughts on Life, Volume 1. click here to download from Amazon*
