Stages of transition, laced with detailed answers to vague questions. Planning to strike out..with slow legs, watching the weather, wondering how soon will it change.
Words come clean out my mouth. I have to find to let them grace the stage. Mind is free, don’t want to put my words in a cage. Don’t want to write from a place of rage.
The script makes no attempt to get to know me. Your advice may be nice, but you are looking past me, wondering why I am sassy. So brassy, in this world where my truth is hidden like secret’s to natures medicine. Codeine cakes the story of my melanin. Subliminal prescriptions to keep me sleep so I will never wake up again. Cool with me, as long as I buy what you are selling.
These time it’s easier to find spoiled minds, but good melon. Artificially colored commercial fruit for the masses to consume.
Music turned to auto tone. Folks think they made it cause they been invited to the room.
Stars fade in the day, burn out before they can shine bright at night too soon. Find out who you really are, it is never, too early, never to soon, to live a life of being you.
URBAN GYPZY 