1:51 a.m., it's a dark and dim moment.
Nobody can fall asleep.
Listening to the night winds blowing.
Death and the sounds of a child's weep.

Calm is the recipe for the moment
yet it's hard for most to achieve.
No mother, father, sister or brother.
Sadly they all had to painfully leave.

Sadness clearly seizes these moments
to remind us the ways of mankind.
Riches surround leaders of the world,
yet our lives aren't worth a dime.

Sit and weep silently in the moment.
Faces covered with pain and despair.
Broken hearts can't scream out loudly,
Nobody listens, nobody to really care.

What do we do in such dire moments
as the reaper knocks at the door.
Do we stand and fight for our lives
or sit quietly in a corner on the floor.

The silence remain within
it hurts and it's scary.
The sound of silence is normal,
common to be afraid.

Keep silent because men are
not suppose to speak.
Accept it or be ridiculed
by everlasting torture.

It's supposed to always be
an unknown secret.
That's not to be shared by
others who look like me.

Remember the pointed knife,
remember the bats of violence.
Continue to hear the threats,
remember the physical pain.

Cling to the many times I tried
to tell the story of reality.
Nobody cared to stop by or call
to hear my broken voice.

Nobody cared to understand,
denials were made in silence.
Today I stand broken because
it's all taken as a joke.

Society won't to listen to a
broken voice like mine.
Keep silent they say to me
remember I'm a man.

Many things have gone away,
many moons have passed.
Many nights of broken dreams,
mental scars from a silent lie.

it's cold outside
want to **** something
but everything is already
dead.

ice has formed
only to melt away
it's suspect and false
nothing solid.

signs of delusional pain
stressed out with
mistaken happiness
emptiness within.

slight winds arrives
cutting like a knife
bruising the heart
it hurts.

no warmth at all
no remedy
an empty bowl
no chicken soup.

hollow as a dead log
decayed and thin
nothing really matters
everything is dead.

Streets covered with hatred, a
tainted neighborhood.
Leadership take it as a sign that
everything is good.

People mislead and forgotten
left to carry the note.
Leadership's only concern is
will you give them a vote.

Decayed relations with the city
the green grass has died.
Leadership strives on messages
of conquer and divide.

Death covers the streets taking
one block at a time.
Leadership looks the other way
as if everything is fine.

The city continues to scream loud
in the middle of the night.
Leadership's only concern is that
their name tag is spelled right.

Feeling pale from the turbulent
times of the pass.
Tons of uneasiness within that
continues to last and last.

A heart of stone that's faded
without a colorful beat.
Dreams are conquered, taken
away in total defeat.

Many roads ahead leading to
nothing but dead ends.
Debris in all lanes, stirred up
by deadly whirlwinds.  

A world that exist without a
sun that shines.
Always wondering why good
things are hard to find.

A hand full of red roses they're
all withered and dead.
Peace within the soul turns out
to be nothing but lies instead.

Oh! that Laila such a spirited life and a very spirited soul.
Chasing joyfully behind "Bunny Hop" as he tries to reach
his little bunny hole.

Oh! granddaddy do you see the bunny running and playing?
I'm going to catch him, her little spirited voice kept on saying.

Oh! that Laila she's such a bundle of joy, "granddaddy" can be
expected to ring out at least a million times a day.
Because she knows that her granddaddy loves her and she loves me, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

We share such memories together like hanging out at "Hams Orchard" on many summer occasions.
Oh! that Laila melts my heart away while we partake in sharing
our peach ice cream with such an aspiration.

Oh! that Laila looks forward to what we call "Donut Saturdays"
and the only one donut that's covered in a pink glaze.
She knows that if she see's that one donut she and I will have another episode of memories that'll last for months and days.

Oh! that Laila

Sorry I misjudged you by the
story the media told.
A car of a different color (blue)
original color (gold).

It wasn't you who started bickering
or the brutal fight.
It's just who I assumed you to be
that made the story seem right.

The wheels of racial politics keeps
spinning around and around.
I apologize for having to see your
body lying dead on the ground.

Nobody including me will never
completely understand.
Until we truthfully see ourselves
alone out in no man's land.

Everybody wants to be first at
any and all cost.
Extreme false explanations given
for the lives that's lost.

Where do you and I start or is
there a place for a beginning.
What happens in the end when
a heart never start mending?