in the land of the white
live too the black men
apparently with equal right
but with covert disdain.

why couldn't the world be one place
when we are all from common gene
where humanity is the only race
across the color of skin.

in the land of the black
live too the white men
apparently of the same pack
but on a different plane.

why couldn't the world be one landmass
when we rose from one origin
where being humane is the only class
across the color of skin.

in the land of the white
live the white men
among them aren't equal right
exist disparity and disdain.

why couldn't the world be one unit
when together we all once had been
where brotherhood is boldly writ
across the color of skin.

in the land of the black
live the black men
among them oneness they lack
the inequalities still remain.*

why couldn't the world be one creed
where mankind lives as one kin
the white and the black can only read
love across the color of skin.

Im a writer that doesn't write
I tell myself that's it's normal
That it's natural
That I must have writers block

I know that's a lie

People ask me what I want to do
I say screenwriter
They think I'm smart, witty, creative
All of the above
The look they give me is a drug
I'm one of the special ones
I have ideas
To them I make things

But I don't.

I like to think I do.
Sure I tell myself that.
But I'm stuck writing stories I'll never finish
Down in books I'll never read

Why do I not read them?

I think it's because of a belief that I am inadequate
And therefore anything I create must be that way as well
The belief that someone like me shouldn't be able to create
I think that's why people look at me adoringly when they hear "screenwriter"
They want to love their ideas as much as they think I do mine.
They think I'm one of the ones that made it out
Which is something I desperately I want to be

So for now I am a writer that doesn't write
Which sadly means I am not a writer at all
But maybe I spoke to soon
Because if I wasn't a writer
I wouldn't have written this at all

It's 2 am and i'm expecting you to call
but why should you
we haven't talked in ages
it shouldn't change now

I wonder if you miss me
which is stupid
I know you don't
you told me you wouldn't

you said you had to forget about me
that you had to move on
either find someone else
or some thing else

maybe you didn't mean that
but what's the point of thinking that
if you didn't mean it you would have called
before 2 am rolled around

I can't write vivid poetry anymore
I think so logically now
I see every shade of black and white
but i see no color

I'm broken
I'll admit to myself
I'd never tell anybody else
but i'll admit it to myself

is that what you want to hear?
that I'm broken
that you broke me
I think you'd like that

maybe I should just tell you
but if I did that then you'd know
(Wow you're a genius)
I can't let you know

It's possible you have the same thoughts
that you won't tell me I broke you
you're stubborn like me
that's why you shouldn't call

I don't like to think about it
I hate it
I try not to think about it
But do you think trees try to fall down
things happen
regardless of whether they're planned
so last night I thought about it
even though I didn't want to

it kills me
I didn't want it to
I assumed it wouldn't
but trees spend all their lives above the grass
that doesn't mean they think they'll ever touch
I thought about it
and I hate that
and I hate that I hate that I thought about it

I hate that I love you
I hate that I don't fully believe that sentence
I hate that you can feel something
but not be aware that you feel it
I wonder if trees know they'll grow
they always do
but I wonder if they know they will
Is it possible to not know the inevitable?

I wish I could unthink the thought I thought
it kills me
how the thought of you with another man
makes my stomach turn
but the thought of me with another woman
doesn't carry the weight to lift a scale
were trees previously just one branch
until they realized they had other options

I'm using a tree as a metaphor
because I don't want to talk about myself
because I don't want to make this about me
I want the world to cause my problems
but if i'm being honest
which I will be
I am the root of my pain
I just don't want to think about it