I dream of a better time, a woman who not only entices me, but eases my mind. A woman who's long ebony hair flows past her shoulders, who's eyes are as big as her heart. She is the one whom I've set apart.
I dream of a better time where I am her's and she is mine, where she is the one who keeps me sane and relinquishes every ounce of pain.
I dream of a better time where I wait for her in this oh so tedious line, every word that dances from her lips is witnessed in the rhythm of her hips. To the world she may seem as some unfortunate dream that would usually be unseen, but in my hopeful eyes she is the truth beneath this cacophony of lies that we have deemed to be life.
I dream of a better time where she has given even the most foolish of men a deeper mind.

My pen is my only friend. When imagine thoughts most couldn't think, I merge the ink with the page and release this rage. The thoughts inside this head are things a man should've never said. With my pen I can erase my fears and wipe away my tears. Tears that have been stained in a shy black kid's brain. Without my pen, society has me wrapped in a 100 pound chain. With this pen I get wiser as I get older. My pen is the sword and I am the soldier.