I don’t appreciate that people don’t include me in aspects of my life. People around me talk about me like a dog, and yet don’t tell me what’s going on with aspects of my life.
My kids relationship with me is hit or miss with one hitting and the other I miss. I want better but I’m living through worse. I don’t want what I live so I need to reverse the curse.
You would think your life is your own, but your thoughts are molded to be rent to own. The reality is painted as people knowing what is good for you but their opinion is based on what they would do.
People want to shield your emotions or through you a fear party. I always want the best for me , yet those near and dear to me want to hold secret open meetings about me in an earshot. When I hear they mute the conversation. If I’m your grown image what have I learned from situation to situation.
My fists may ellicit the violence of fury, but my words can lock up any mind I choose to incarcerate . No one knows they have kept ur love locked down until the caged bird sings, not a song but sings the tragedy of the blues, accused and feeling wronged.
I know I am a part of my struggle and emotions, but I didn’t move next door to this neighbor of a hood. Through the light in the crack of my mental cell I write the words of triumph on the walls of mind.
I can write in Braille, because my mind sometimes has no light and I have to comprehend my story. I want to be included in my lifeline, afterall it’s not that bad of a story.