Poem Number X

I’ve cried more nights than noah’s flood
I even swing fists in my sleep,
and sometimes I draw blood
I don’t ask for your sympathy
you are masked by your envy
in a world where hard work
don’t mean money
unless you talking cooked gs
that’s grams
that’s cocaine
that’s your president
I don’t care what his name
I don’t care what his race
He’s just another rat
If he go against the grain
Ask Lyndon how fast a face gets replaced
Kiss my ass and judge me later
my spirituality don’t need no prayers
my actuality don’t have no layers
your tattoos spell your name
I got war scars that explain
the value of pain
your hypermasculine
i’m vibrations of waves standing
and then…