The Starving Heart (Pt.1)
Lies, I hate them, the last person that threw them to me like punches, I ate them. As I swallowed them, my throat began to burn, and started bleeding. I threw up nothing but broken promises, and a few compliments, nothing sweet. My heart, so hollow, cold, and bruised, I don’t have insurance on this shit, so I follow the rules of survival; I try my best to shelter it, and feed it, although it starves a lot, make sense? To me it does, but what if I said I’m just a broke bum with no dollars no cents, with a mind full of thoughts so crushed you’d swear they were jail house ramens?
I’m sick of the judgement, I’m sick of the hate, what if I said my only escape is on the dark side of the gate, where I forget every progression but remember every mistake?
What if I said I want to runaway, and never come back to this state, or mind state that I always get trapped in because I don’t have a passport, and can’t hop the border? What if I said I wanted to get slimmer because the boys are always staring at my curves, and when I turn them down, I get slapped with insults and kicked to the side like I was the curve the thugs used to break down their swishers on?
Would you believe that?
(2014)
Examples of the hard life of a black female.
*Struggles
*Pain
*Starvation
*Lost Love
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