I'm trying to end those stereotypes  and get rid of these statics,

   not all of us wanna Iive for your world we're different,

  it seems like it's a habit that common since is no longer since,

they flooding this water but won't never rinse,

  so it's ***** water filled with doubts,

  it's many roads with different routes,

I had a nightmare but I turned it into a dream,

I'm taking risks but I always felt extreme,

   they in a gang but are they really banging,

suicidal doors I guess that's why we're hanging,

man I thank the lord for his blessing it's the only light I see,

freedom is a lie when we're not even free,

  I kinda get it now I'm a outsider who won't be let in,

standing at the door while the rest just smoking,

they smiling at me cause I know it's hard to talk,

  a sixteen year old with a cause yea they shocked,  




                               ADT16

I want to collect your dust,
adorn my soul with your heartbeat,
and my happiness will never rust,

Your arms will become
my most worn cloak
and my demons will
go up in smoke.

Like oil in my throat
you burn me,
I'm your comfort food
so consume me
until you're fine again.

Tug on my breath
just when you're out of it,
Your intentions I've undressed,
Your disguise is naked now,
Save yourself somehow.

This evening I will discover a fibrous black-green substance under the nails of the first three fingers on my right hand.
I will excavate it with a nail file, and inspect it in my palm, it will be poked, prodded, and rolled into a ball.
I will recognize this substance.
While I recollect,
There will be a sleeping sea turtle one hour south, twenty minutes out, and twelve meters deep with three long scratches etched into the algae - exposing a marbled shell.
My vision will narrow and my senses will perk.
I will breath long heavy breaths into my regulator,
I will feel fins pushing past, up and through my heart strings,
I will spill salt water tears,
The ocean is a fishbowl that contains only me, and a creature after my own self.

****** and bruised,we hold our heads up high.
We keep blocking the noise inside our heads by cursing at the sky,singing the anthem of the ******.
Hell bound,we only pray for things we need to make us feel alive.
Only when tucked in "I love you's" or "I'm a mess" do we say "God".
We keep committing crimes,using our sob stories as our excuses.
As if your bruises and wounds are enough to provide vindication,
As if our pain could justify our sins.
Neglected social casualties,we glorify our alienation,use our insecurities as weapons and wound others instead.
I'm sorry because we can't be saved.I'm sorry because we are told that,"it's all in your head".I'm sorry because growing up means succumbing to the cancer that is life.
I'm sorry,I really am.