I was an American Idol, gold teeth and dreams of drug empires while standing on the backs of depressed black people. At least that is what they make seem like. Im tired of being fed a dream.
Im tired of having a full spoon and an empty plate.A hollowed plate and drippy mashed potatoes. I hate ho*es and the one I hate the most is the one they tried to make out of me. My knees were bruised, I walked on them too long.
I was carrying a sold out sign but just couldnt see the sign that I was being sold out.
I looked up an looked out, I saw me people and more important than that, they saw me. Not the me that I am but the me that I could be. There was hope for me and it wasnt anywhere where there was dope for me.
I didnt know that until now. Maybe its not too late for me.