The rhythm of my heartbeat.
The sound of my soul.
The emptiness I keep hidden away,
Filled with hollow words,
That I use to write these poems.

No one knows what it's like
To live as a ****
we have Hobbies,
Relationships
And we give Our kids hugs.

No one knows what it's like
To be Black all the time
For everyone to lock doors around you,
In fear of imminent crime.

No one know what's it like
To be Me
My problem are through the roof.
I take my anger out
Through poetry.

No one knows what it's like
To be Someone Else
I'm grateful to be here
Happy,
Alive,
And hopefully in good health.

If we all placed our problems on a table,
We'd take ours back.
That's a line I learned from a White gentleman,
Who looked at me for more than being Black.

Appreciate Everyone

If I must forget you
convince me
that love is the hollow
of words unwritten

Remind me
that thoughts are a trespass
all things unwanted

Whisper a word in the wrong place
a misstep towards a Thursday
torn from the walls in May

Teach me
to think love
an inconvenience
an imprudent heartbeat
at the wrong time of day

Show me
what I must forget