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Caleb Smith Oct 2020
A child growing out of his clothes, into grown folk
A metaphor for metamorphosis,
A child looking within, questioning, if there’s an adult in this
His childhood of little resourcefulness still made him fortunate
It formed a fighter from birth, against evil’s extortionist
As he was marked from the start like the A of adulteress
No pretty dimes on his line, petty crimes to his name
He’s penny wise with his time, plenty wise for his age
Open wounds made him an open book, his cover couldn’t stay
Every year a flipped page, read between the lines under his eyes
He looks aged, his childhood misplaced
Lost himself, like slaves and last names
The child’s aim was to arrive to adult destiny
He was never given the train
His “Rite Of” Passage
the underground railroad
He freed himself from mental chains
He became
his own Harriet Tubman,
Fled from home, got hip to runnin
Walked through the hills and valleys
reminiscing on fam in Cali
They thought he left to rebel
but truth is he misses em badly
Long ago, his parents a Jack and Jill
went whack for real,
colliding down a hill,
They were taken,
gravity steals
It’s fill of will over them still
And ever since the spill,
they been ill
popped the pills
caught the chills
unpaid bills
losing everything
so they became his Achilles heel
Left an orphan to look like Prodigal,
but the optical isn’t real
His struggle doesn’t appeal,
so many stare unaware,
looks can ****
Labeled as a runaway,
he just took ambition, and ran with it
He can’t look back to miss them, he has to travel the distance
He’s set sight on his vision
He lost everything in the year twenty twenty
So how is he still running?
he lost the baggage with it
A child running out of lessons from adolescence
Adulting is different
He grew up hard and fast,
busted through the concrete
Ready to make the past his ***, screamed “put it behind me!”
Hurt people hurt people
So he declared “it’s all love”
They hit him, he gets back up
Thanks to The God up above
267 · May 2020
Weight Game
Caleb Smith May 2020
You gone work it out
             after all, this is a weight game
Be PATIENT for all time highs
             meanwhile, vibing to all time lows
Might make yourself a bellionaire
             after all, being broke can make you RICH
                        being broke can make you FIXED
So find beauty in the climb BEFORE the peak
When they say it’s gonna work out
             they meant it’s gonna exercise your belief
The heart must get it’s reps as well
                        so don’t stop til the set’s complete
Bellionaire is not a typo, it's a Jon Bellion reference.
199 · Oct 2020
Man's Hood
Caleb Smith Oct 2020
I busted open the door,
breathed in the **** smell
Floored by the busted bottles,
used to beat females
Beneath me, was a body,
her bust exposed as she lied on the floor
The liquor must of licked her, it missed her in her misery
How’d she get mixed with pimps, and unsavory misters?
Money.
Funny,
Dead presidents solve most mysteries
I see north of me, broken pictures and light fixtures
They say demons do their deeds in the darkness,
These ****** damages defile as they fill in, this apartment
The AC, broke, like empty pockets,
The place equivalent to an icebox
The ice on my wrist
at home in one way
But cool things will get you shot,
You can’t strut on these runways
I take some steps, I hear the wood scream
Similar to when he laid her down in the sheets
I find *** and a *** of crack cookin on the stovetop
The trash has McDonald’s wrappers, his diet a disaster
Bras of five different women on the floor
Probably people purchased at clubs, to do his ***** chores
I can see his finances are a mess, but his spirit is what’s poor
Pores are sweatin, as I hear the walls of my past confessing
THIS IS HOME
This is where I was raised, actually no, where I was brought down
Baby mamas in rotation like my favorite mixtapes
My mind like what a place, ain’t no way I’m a stay
He had his life all backwards, and I could never set him straight?
I walked into Man’s Hood, I’m just glad I escaped
But the women still abused, and the drugs he uses
God, I’m 20 years old, this a lot on my plate
I feel called to fix it, maybe that’s why I’m back
I came for my bags, but the baggage attacks
I hear a cry, a child breaks out in a whimper
A skinny lil boy, probably missed too many dinners
A son of another woman but my brother the same
How can I make change if I run away
THIS IS HOME
I wipe his tears, tell him, it’ll be okay
I stayed for that night.
The future an unknown
192 · May 2020
Take My Hand
Caleb Smith May 2020
To my future wife,

WE are
a package that’s not promised by the pinky,
      but the ring finger
If God’s index finger, can keep us alive that long
      as we thumb across
            ALL the middle fingers Satan has in store for us
EXPECT broken nails, EXPECT deep cuts
But know when OUR palms touch,
      it takes us getting OUR hands *****
            to build the relationship
175 · May 2020
Fine Wine
Caleb Smith May 2020
His heart hit upon revival
See, she fixed his luv like a typo
Baby looks, got em shook
For rooks they mistook em for
Funny how they aged like vino
Left it to God to fill his cup
Now every glass is half full
God spelling some blessings
That were written in gospel
They fermented in fine time
The convos made fine wine
Known as the young 1’s
The growth’s an odd prime
127 · May 2020
Black Jack
Caleb Smith May 2020
Pick a card any card,
              jacks of all trades
I’ve got queens to steady by,
              got my kings by my side
Face stay poker
              with these jokers
                           taking shots at my mind
They’re weak
        like shots of wine
                 unaware my hand dangerous
                           my Seven eight nine
All heart in the *****,
        club of diamonds how we shine
Turning up like the place
            I see the card, there’s no face
After hitting deck, I collect
            I’m a 10, to my side is the ace
cards, card game, game, club of diamonds, black jack

— The End —