The Immortal Wize  | Poetry Vibe
The Immortal Wize

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lightness in the dark
If you're reading this you're it, get with it stay with it don't quit.

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Baby Blues

CATEGORY

life

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Views: 384

Born a girl child with no mother affection
Daddy bolted and ran in the other direction
Who’s going to pick me up when I fall?
Who’s going to come running when I call?

When I scrape my knee who’s going to comfort me?
Who’s going to be there to care for me?

In a way I cannot explain
Mother has always looked at me strange
Like why she gave me birth and a name

I took my time to walk so they thought I was lame
I developed slow cause daddy shot heroin in his veins

I had to open my eyes and clutch my fist real tight
Trembling under my blakey in fear of night
Tortured with nightmares I had no dreams but fright
Daddy’s shadow made mommy scream

Silenced by child abuse I never cried or spilt my juice
My eyes were open to things a child should have never seen
Daddy beat me till I was raw never cried I never screamed
And no one saw I could kill him in my dreams

I cried only to God he who made me strong
I’ve roamed this world 4 1/2 decades long
I held my arms to the sky to be picked up
One day I put them down and just gave up

When people ask why I never smile
I say I think I did when I was a child

Mothers are like Gods and should never be hated
Where was my mother when I graduated?

All the sports I played all the scores I made
Mama could not make it to just one game
I would make excuses for her and say
“She would come if she knew”

Holding my trophy inside feeling blue
I wanted someone in the cheering stands for me
Not strangers from other families

I look at my mother her face wrinkled and worn
I think of the day that I was born
How young she was without a clue
An ignorant man and a baby
What was she going to do?

My father now lays silently still and behaved
Before he died I gave him a shave
Why I didn’t kill him dead remains to be said
I have yet to visit and flower his grave

People say forget it just let go
My wounds are deep and wide and I can’t sew
I cannot take my pen and rewrite my past
Though I do hope that my ink flow would last
That I could write it out of me just as fast

 

 

 

 

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